Deepwood Weald Construct my summer home.

He turns then, slicing through her with pale cold gaze. There was a new purpose in his slight movements which has her a little more tense now- but he does not intercept, nor flee, as she continues her approach. So then comes the most hesitant little wag of her sandy tail, hoping to bring out a little brighter of a spirit from him.

It was her heat, after all, and whatever that seemed to mean, she knew that for once, men glowed with a shining light like never before. Each one she came upon she had to know, each one drew her in the way women usually had. So attached to nature's leash, she was pulled closer, wanting to know him, to meet him. 

She halts a couple yards away, little black nose sniffing wildly at the air, catching the scent of many upon his pelt. Hydra? Hi, you from Moonspear? She chirps with dripping accent, while seaglass eyes seem to scan his figure like an art critic at a museum.