Firefly Glen in my veins like fire

she can feel his eyes on her as she drinks,  does not acknowledge his attentions. he speaks gruffly in a language she cannot understand, but the gentle sway of his tail betrays positive intent. a compliment, perhaps, or a request.

he moves away from her to eat, and she is satisfied. audacious he may be, but he is not so foolish as to feed by her side. good. she returns to her feast in silence, but keeps in mind the memory of his strength. her season is fast approaching, and with it the drive to recreate what she has lost. a family. daughters. she gives him a sideward glance, assessing the thick coat and rippling muscle. she has never felt strongly for men, and she does not now. even her season bids her seek out the comfort of other women, and she is loath to ignore.

but this man...he can perhaps prove useful. and what is a man but a tool with which to provide? yes, if his strength proves lasting, she will have him. and the children will be hers, this time.

decision cemented, she returns again to her meal with swaying tail and gnashing teeth. not friendly, but neutral. he has earned lowered hackles and little more.