Sleepy Fox Hollow Lilac and gooseberries.

He responded as she hoped, and leaned into her willingly. If there was any reluctance in his movement, in his touch, Nyx did not pay enough attention to take notice. From within her breast came a low rumble, an inviting sound to accompany the smoothing of her tongue at his throat as she delivered tender kisses in the fleeting moments between evocative nibbling.

Mahler was not Lycaon, her mind screamed as he gathered and moved to encourage her away to someplace more private. While Nyx had never given herself the chance to even learn to love the father of her very unexpected, unwanted litter, she had cared for him. Guilt maintained the solemn thoughts she held for him and, as the General thrust his muzzle between the dense fur at her peppered shoulders, it took some effort to keep from pretending he was Grimnismal's pale-furred Beta.

This wasn't about love. It was about feeling something other than the daily thrum of her grief. It was about release.

"Mahler," came the tawny Ostrega's soft murmur as she tilted her head back, hawkish eyes blinking closed with the suggestive sweep of her feathered tail against her companion's thigh.