Sea Lion Shores our iron coffin

the buzz of cicadas at his back, merrick approached her with the rangy stride of a young lion, coming to pause before her.
he could not remember touching her deliberately; perhaps in the hot days that passed they had romped like children, but their purpose had always been driving, singular.
now merrick, aware she could turn him away with a flash of her fearless teeth, lowered his muzzle toward hers, intending to brush across the bridge of her nose with his lips.