Dahozhoni Meadow Don't really care what they would say, I'm asking you to stay

ah, there was the line. soto found its edge just as panacea tugged it away. 

fine. his tongue rakes over his black muzzle as he watches the smooth pirouette, the sultry marriage of russet and flame fur glinting in the sunlight.  but there’s two things, not one — where soto had previously encountered either or, this seemed a package deal situation. 

how delightfully weird. he supposes then it was good he’d only bluffed — it isn’t his nature to take bed with an unwilling woman. 

que bonita, he calls after the receding hind end, holding the leanness of that supple image in his mind a long time after panacea departed.