Nova Peak Savage Daughter

Riley tried to wriggle out of her grasp. Masquerade brought up a paw, as if to hold him in place. But she let go of him with a playful shove to the rump, more for the excuse to touch it than for any other reason.

Soon, he pivoted and bowed again to begin a second round. She took a moment to simply admire his brute strength, the ripple of muscles in his back. Every fur on his body was silvered in moonlight. It tugged at something deep with Masquerade, the ferocity of the feeling catching her by surprise.

But now was not the time for that. Now was the time to play, to flirt, to bond more as a pair. Masque swept suddenly to her feet in a mock display of dominance. Her neck arched severely, her tail thrusting upward so it curved over her back. She angled her red muzzle downward, ears pressed forward as her lip curled.

It was all in good fun, of course, but Masque was both surprised and unsurprised by the sense of rightness as she postured before Riley like a queen before her subject.