Sleepy Fox Hollow Get Joanie on the phone, she'll leave us on a light

sixteen days. a fortnight and two.
mahler had adopted the very stretching edges of diasporan territory as his milieu, both anticipating and dreading the next she-wolf who would continue this vorsichtig.
his head felt tight, his loins athrob with annoying persistence; every one of his masculine fibres on edge and scraped down by the tantalizing season.
as if that were not enough, here now the prancing, scuffling object of his attention, all lithe and taut hips, wiry body showcased by her antics.
had her scent changed? he did not know, but was drawn inexorably before wylla all the same.