Blackfoot Forest [m] what does the fox say?

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: very vague references to foxes yiffing.

A loud shriek startled Javelina awake from a mid-afternoon nap. She sat up and rolled onto all fours in about four seconds flat. She didn’t see @Glaukos and wondered if perhaps what she’d heard was him making a kill. But then she heard a second, louder scream. Her fur raised and she found herself stalking warily through the woods.

The scent hit her well before Javelina came upon the scene of the coupling foxes. It wasn’t the same pungent odor ubiquitous to this forest. It was one she’d smelled a few times in her life, most often from her own kind. Her nose wriggled as she cataloged the peculiarities of the vixen’s heat. She ventured close enough to spy on them between some trees before quickly gliding away in another direction.

She trotted smoothly along a game trail. Javelina’s wound had healed so well in the past week, she thought she might even be able to hunt. But she wasn’t hungry. If anything, she was distracted. She sucked in a breath, thinking about the foxes’ shouts of—was it pain? Pleasure? She shuddered a little at the recollection of the male clinging to the female’s back.

I don’t want anyone mounting me, ever, she said under her breath, one of few holdovers from her past.

Fortunately, she’d never had to deal with that sort of attention. Despite what her mother had told her back then, her second spring had come and gone without any sign of estrus. It had been a relief to Javelina, even though she knew it was probably due to her poor body conditioning at the time. That season had been her closest brush with death, up until recently.

She paused to nip at a sudden itch in her thigh. She was very careful and took the opportunity to examine the wound to get her mind off other things. It was unbelievable how much different it looked from only several days ago. The itching was unbearable at times but it didn’t hurt much anymore. Gingerly, Javelina began to brush her tongue over the knitting flesh.