Moonspear Heat

Desdemona was quite late, being far from the border and hearing the call just barely in time, albiet nearly the last one, but there. A flush through her pelt as she paced rapidly to arrive in time, as toepads felt damp from the sweat, and she listened with a keen interest. A first meeting, but arrived late and offered a small tip of her head to express reprent- and to hope, to herself as well, it would not happen again.

Though a meeting she did not expect, one of the season. Mating. A right she was never given, nor expected to be given. She dare not share the ruined blood, and sire' another bastard such as herself. There was no need to worry about the wide-eared wolf, for she had no interest, or hope in an act. Cold-blooded, she felt about the season, despite the slight discomfort, she wouldn't give in to it. Her fire would be placed with the loyalty, and guard more feriously, but closer to the border this time. She would follow the words the Queen would give, and guard along the woman.