Duskfire Glacier δ

She feels that indication like a tusk through the belly and tears her eyes away to murmur, “I do not believe Faust will hurt me— or them.” But the same cannot be said of Skorpa. Blue follows the scar shredding his flank and memory of its terrible infection swarms her nose.
But she was still in heat and would be for some days. How wise would it be to seek entry into a pack? Could she even imagine the northman living peacefully among droves of others? Would he even want to? Playing nice; obeying orders?
But the unknown second; this option scares her most of all.
Amid quiet contemplations she realizes there has been no beat back from Skorpa. He has done nothing more than stalk back to his work; accepting her answer utterly. It is not what she has come to expect from men.
“Are you pouting?” Ayovi pursues with a tease, snaking her way between he and their frozen meat cuts to come into his arms and bare her throat.
"I don't want to talk," she murmurs, as if they could understand each other, anyway. The huntress begins caressing him tenderly to win back his touch. How can she make a rational decision when all she wants is to fold with him again and again?
And still there is a third option. Ayovi wonders if Skorpa had pondered it.