Sleepy Fox Hollow [m] nomajoka

Each step closer to the widow brought him closer to the enveloping smoke of her season. Anselm’s instincts told him this scent-signal would compromise the hollow. It would bring in courting males — and their borders were already so flagrantly and rudely violated. 

He came upon her and she whirled her hind end to the ground, her tail wrapped tightly around her haunches as if he would disabuse her. The bile and contempt that singed his tongue wilted, but his gaze remained hard. 

In such close proximity, it took all of Anselm’s power to ignore the stirring of his nature. 

You vill bring unvanted attention to us. You risk us all. Anselm snarled, as if she controlled the whims of nature and was to blame for it. Make it stop.