Swiftcurrent Creek Night snake

The wind is in her face, bringing aromas of pine through the creek wolf’s arbors and thickets. Her tail threshes the air. He's a dusky shape shadowed by trees on the traces of her hocks. His temper is tasted on the breeze, bright and alert like mint, tightening that pain low in her stomach, making her relive what they’d done the night before. She’d lost her mind, thinking about those things.

Pushing from the trees, the coy snakes up into the undergrowth, coiling secretly to strike. She listens for his thud of earth, clacking paws as they pound grass and stone. When he passes a loping step catches his wrist, snapping mischievously at strands of dark cheek. She lends a phantom kiss to his throat before bucking away to square up, light-footed grace before the much taller and broader man.

“Now I will have you,” as she wanted him, gaze flicking between glass eyes, lowering slowly to Akavir's lips.