Hushed Willows [m] i hit a wall

The fishing line became taut.

A dark figure pooled from the darkness, dropped like rainwater from a leaf. She observed him for a moment: the sway of his canter, the focus (or lack thereof) of his gaze, the gloss of his raven fur. He was smaller than she would have normally liked, but this season was less about her progeny and more about getting her rocks off. She did not feel so picky this round.

And the more high risk, the better.

River slithered from her perch, making no secret of herself now. On level ground, she stood tall as her height allowed, tail wafting her invitation, and she looked to him pointedly. Come now… and come again.