Tormented Tarns footprints on the sand

looking for a quick thread, and fade to black if it gets anywhere! Tags for reference only!

After stabilizing Foxglove, Dhalia returned to the Tarns where the child had first fallen ill. She'd not had much time to examine the spiders who made their homes among the trees, but now that she knew the girl was safe in the paws of @Reverie and @Dusty Rose, Dhalia set herself to the task.

The first night had been fruitless.

The second brought an odd tiredness and a yearning for companionship she certainly wouldn't find in the Tarns.

It was distracting, to say the least. And peculiar. Why now, when she'd never felt this before? Dhalia tried to focus on finding the spider, but her eyes and mind drifted elsewhere.

There was a very thin line between what his genes told him to do and the code he had been instilled with. This was the first time he had found himself taking up a scent and truly following it.

As he drew near there was a frenzy that began. A burn that rose in his throat. He moved seamlessly. His body winding and weaving between trees. He drew only to a stop when his eyes laid on the female. For a moment he silently swayed within the shadows. Examining her.

This was a woman. In full bloom. There was something to be said for the animalistic lust he felt, but there were also dues to pay to whom he was. He needed to leave.

"Hello," The word dropped from his lips rather warmly. He took a step forward to be seen by her, but Collision took no other advances. Tongue ran across his lips, and he found himself at war within his mind. at the same time, he realized he needed to run his genetics told him he would stay.

He was ordinary, his sturdy frame clothed in grays - but in the moment he came into her line of sight, she drank him in.

His strength would be a welcome asset. His fur would blend seamlessly with hers. Healers who could hold their own, who bore the colour of the earth they tended. There was something trustworthy in the ordinary. Something more, in the softness of his eyes.

Dhalia wove closer.

Hey, she said, aware of where this could end, of what she'd told herself over and over again.

Her duties were with the families she served. 

She had no time for her own. 

Children would only make things complicated.

It seemed her reasoning had no place here anymore. She'd brush against him, if he didn't run. Eyes alluring.

An invitation.

All moisture had left his body. His throat tightened, mouth ran dry, and his eyes began to burn. He found himself hungered in a definition apart from what he had ever meant before. His chest rose and fell heavily--a man holding onto himself only by a strand.

For a moment it could be him and her. Alone.

He needed help. He needed to get away. He was in danger.

His eyes blinked drunkenly as she whispered a greeting. Her body melding to his own and he stayed for the ride. He was in a trance. Her fur entangles with his own and he dropped his head to touch her back. If he could just--No.

Collision shook his head and staggered back. He glanced to the side sheepishly. She wasn't his. He was not hers. This was not his card to play.

But wasn't it? Wasn't this exactly the role of a man? To offer the assurance that their species continued. Then the role of the mother to protect that brood until they could stand on their own against the world.

Collision needed more, "I--can't," He muttered the words barely loud enough to hear. Restraining himself, "You're more than a one night stand and a single-mom-to-be," The male held women in high regard. More importantly...he held the mother of his children in high regard. He couldn't father children that he would not raise. By a woman that could dance into oblivion--for him to never know.

He wanted her - she could feel it! In the way he stayed. But he pulled away and she leaned into empty space, her breath hanging on the still summer air.

And she knew: this one was different.

She studied him with a tilt of her head.

More noble than many men of these wilds, she mused, loud enough for him to hear, others would have made a meal of me without thinking of what came next. She admired that he did not. She stepped closer again, but did not touch him; merely bowed her head to sniff the air before him, searching out any sign of affiliation beyond the crags and cliffs.

She found none. 

Who are you? she finally asked, and whose?

He was building a wall in his head. One between himself and Dahlia. Yet, the bricks came tumbling down one after the other. He would remain electrified by her presence. He would continue his dance with honor and capability. Could rarely implied one should.

She makes a bold proclamation about him. If only she knew. He wasn't as honorable as she thought. Maybe in some ways--and maybe he was. Though he stayed in a place mentally holding on to his past and the missteps he had taken then.

He knew what almost anyone else would've done. Ravaged her and left her with the consequences of falling to momentary desire. In all fairness, it wasn't something she had power over herself. Collision wondered what it was like. To be slave to your own body--betrayed by an animalistic force that lived inside. Governing a permanent decision. Then again, he too, had almost fallen to it. And the encounter wasn't over.

"I'm Collision," He bowed his head. Focused closely on breathing long and slow breaths. To give him some modicum of control, "I don't belong to anyone or anywhere," His ears were lain back now. Almost ashamedly. Perhaps that would also bring her to an understanding--you wouldn't want a futile vagabond to be the bloodline of your progeny.