Sleepy Fox Hollow [M] The Ballad of Lonely Bear

colosseum’s breath hitched the moment her scent deepened.

fancy. fancy. fancy.

she reached for him and he met her, nose to nose, the heat of her skin like wildfire against his own. her breath filled his lungs as surely as his own, and for a heartbeat, the hollow fell away—no wind, no foals, no herd. just her.
his neck arched with a low, primal rumble, tail lifting, muscles rippling beneath roan hide as he took one slow step closer. not a charge. not a chase. invitation.

he bumped her muzzle gently, and then drew along the curve of her jaw, nostrils flaring wide as he breathed her in—her want, her warmth, her readiness.
a deep chuff pulsed from his chest as he pressed his shoulder briefly to hers, flank brushing as he passed.

not demanding.
just present.
just his.

he circled her once, a slow orbit drawn tight by instinct, hooves whispering against the ground, body thick with tension he held close—coiled, respectful, waiting.

but the message was clear, carved into every line of his stance:

if she wanted him, she had him.
no hesitation.
no question.
just yes.