Qeya River devourer

stigmata enjoyed the rough-housing, even at the mercy of a complete stranger. but the tundran virago was no stranger to him, not physically at least. he knew her lean limbs and mercilessly sharp figure - he knew her strength - in the way that he remembered the savage females from the drenchwood, and he was glad to trade mock-blows with her for the sake of reliving his earlier years.

his opponent was relentless, but disarming, and she took to their game like a fish to water. stigmata had to limber himself up so that he might match the wild and zealous valkyrie half his age, but the male in the height of his prime was more than up to taking on the chase she led him on. because if the mountain empress wanted to know if she had found a wolf worthy or not of her physically, then she had come from her homestead at precisely the right time.

he was fast - faster than his size promised - and like lightning he streaked after her on the riverside. they danced and nipped and swirled together their monochromatic coats; stigmata never quite being able to bring the she-wolf to heel. he started to want her badly, attracted to her strength, and with increasing surreptitiousness the target of his "affectionate" teasing became her fleeing hind-quarters. at one point he even dared to throw a large forepaw square onto her back.

not that he was tempted to take her, but he wasn't keen on there being any secrets between them.

mine.