The Bracken Woods blood thorns [m]

their gazes meet, and for a split second red leaf thought she saw a blaze of blood orange somewhere deep in the silvery blue. i suppose we are, she backpedals, swallowing the ball of nerves in her throat that had built to the size of a fist, gingerly lifting a paw to smooth out the fur along his cheeks. but not so different that we can never get along, right?
she gasps at the pull of her hips, and against her better judgment, a distinct warmth pools deep in her belly. she almost wanted to stay there, in the water; to let him have her along the creek's edge, anything, anything to feel the electricity that once lived between them. it was still there, somewhere. it had to be.
but cen has a better idea. this time, she is eager; receptive, warm, all but a puddle beneath him, pliant and needy and liquefied. her breath shudders and for the first time in what felt like eons, she is alive. she is loved.

she all but collapses when they part, shivering and yet bursting with an insatiable fever. her eyes flutter to a close, and she frowns as a whirl of cold air takes cen's place beside her. another few hours, she responds in sleepy sharadoii, stretching out an arm in front of her in hopes that perhaps it would bring him back to their bedfurs. maybe things were changing; maybe things could be good again. maybe this move was all they needed. would you like to help me? or maybe i could teach you how we make our pelts.