Ghost Lion Crag Ride or die.

arcturus watched with somewhat bald horror as towhee stalked over towards him, swung her hind end in his direction, and demonstrated it all -- his eyes couldn't help but pass over her lean hips, her long flank -- he was male, after all.

that scent hit him like a wave; he felt something growl within him, yet for a moment longer most of his good senses prevailed. he didn't move back this time -- and for some reason, he didn't want her to turn away. don't go, his gaze seemed to convey as he wrestled with both of his conflicting natures: the basal one, which was far stronger, sharper, fitter -- and his more stolid nature, which cautioned against anything rash because of moonspear, hydra ....

fuck hydra, arcturus thought with a grunt, his gaze lifting from towhee's backside to her eyes. "don't we have to be.. mates?" he flinched as her yowl rose over the air. (that basal part of him hissed in distaste, for it was likely to draw competitors - something arcturus realized with a bewildered start. how did he know that?!)