The faeries were no more, broken apart by the mere touch of the Greymoor Watch, which was growing ever more in number. Valmúa knew it likely that one of her brothers was bound to catch on to her covert operations, but that was not why she was spending the day away from the ravens.
        The ravine that separated the two packs had become less interesting now that they were no longer trying to hold the fort, so to speak. She had yet to visit the Willows and cover the smells of the Court members with her own, but that was not her goal that day.
        Instead, she headed out toward the north, scouting for prey animals in the hope that she might find something big enough to call in her boys or the harem to help her with. They were due for a large kill. So, in the opposite direction she went along the ravine, nose to the ground.
        The man she ended up running into was not of the Willows, nor of any other place she was familiar with. She could see from a distance a russet about his lower body. She stopped and chuffed a firm greeting, her stance neutral but eyes alert.

        Boys. Delicious boys.
        The other one had colours not dissimilar from her own. He looked young and thin and sprightly. A grin came to her, even as the other suggested that Valmúa was old enough to be his mother. Relaxing, she moved in closer to the pair, eager to have a bit of fun. You think this cute one came from my kisa? She laughed, cackling, voice rather shrill in the cold air about them.
        Valmúa wagged her tail as she closed the distance, quite sure that regardless of where these two were from, this would not be a nasty encounter. Maybe I should be flattered, she said, her accent thick as she experimented with a word she hadn't used before. She eyed each of them in turn almost predatorially. They were both lean and well-built. The one with the red ass had curious, blue eyes that the fire woman was immediately taken with.
        Her stares were open and obvious. She had never been a subtle woman.

        It was so easy. Too easy. She adored being treated as a sex object by boys that were barely old enough to have dropped eistu. To the concept of her "adopting" the red one, she grinned, turning to him with eyes that glimmered with a dark, sensational decadence. When the red-assed one joined in the joke, she eyed him as well. Make me an offer, she said, half-serious.
        She easily let him drink her in as much as he wanted, shifting her weight to accentuate her waist, flicking her tail unapologetically, as though mildly annoyed. It is Valmúa af Stormskýli, and it depends what baby offers, she introduced, her tone playful, silky with a practiced mischief. The boys were strangers. Her brothers would not have approved of such behaviour, but she had always been free to make her own choices, free to get herself into situations.
        And you, my new babies, what are you called? She was a hungry mama. Thirsty, even.

        Valmúa felt the warm breath of the red-tailed boy as he excitedly took in her scent. For her part, she had her nose at his neck, inhaling the smell of the sea and cliff-side sands. Her tail raised slightly as he started to get too close, and she prepared to nip at him. He stayed respectful, though, and introduced himself. Njord, he was called. He was all puffed up and funny. The other, she glanced at again, roaming closer to him with wide, confident steps.
        Njord moved closer to the boy as well, and she noticed, wondering if he really knew the can of worms he had helped the boy to open. Easily, Valmúa sniffed then at young Merlin, posturing so that her body was sideways to his but holding her tail high. She tried her best to gauge the reaction before backing off only slightly, moving around the two of them like a panther sizing up its target. Play-time indeed. She let out a small "heh" at Njord's question, but answered it with another question. Are you boys far from home?

        The fire woman couldn't get over how adorable each of them was. They were like children who had stumbled across a gun, unlocked and possibly loaded while grandpaps was asleep. The smile across her face was strange. She didn't look particularly happy. It curved in a simultaneously coquettish and cruel way. She could tell these expressions made them both quite uncomfortable.
        The red boy had a witty tongue. Valmúa opened her mouth and laughed exactly once, pleased by him. Njord agreed with a jab of his elbow, explaining that he, too, was far from home.
        He then proceeded to make a rather provocative suggestion. The sly grin she had been holding transformed into something much more genuine at the thought of a gift. Such gifts would please the ravens of the Watch. Perhaps she could get the red-assed boy to bring her something shiny indeed. I love pearls, she lied, having never seen a pearl.
        Valmúa was about to answer his question when he came in, quite close to her, and made eye contact with her. She did not break it. Her eyes were heated, sharp, like a fine steel. His gaze. Blue. Boyish. Drinkable.
        She broke the moment by sharply nipping at him and letting loose a playful growl, catching her teeth on his neck. It all lasted maybe two seconds, which no doubt were awkward for poor Merlin. I live there, at the Watch, where the ravens circle, she said finally, gesturing toward the mountains. She swept around again for a few paces, looking from Merlin to Njord, enjoying the heat.

        She wrapped him steadily, easily around her proverbial finger. Merlin was more difficult, evidently immune to her wiles. She watched him with a softer gaze and licked her lips lightly without noticing. Valmúa looked as though she was hunting something small and cute, something that would taste excellent once she managed to get her jaws around its fine little neck.
        Njord and his adorable little red tail curled. She wanted to play him like a card from an excellent hand, but more than that she enjoyed every bit of him, right down to the scent of his youth, born from the sea. The two of them intrigued her, and she silently wished they might follow her into forbidden oblivion; the thought made her feel heat, and she opened her mouth to breathe for a moment and cool the fire within.
        It is a date, gæludýrið mitt, she answered smoothly, her tongue sweeping over the words as though it was a fine wine she wanted to last forever. The fire woman turned then toward the mountain, as though to leave. Her tail swept intentionally to expose the fur of her hindquarters, and perhaps a touch more. Turning her head, she glanced almost dangerously at the both of them. You may join him, Merlin, she added, though it seemed clear from the boy's expression that his eistu might have forever receded.

        Ever a good boy, Merlin declined the offer as Valmúa had anticipated. She ran her tongue along one of her canines. It was always the ones who were less enamoured with her that she wanted all the more. He even demanded that she return Njord, joking that she would eat him.
        I will try not to get carried away, she said, though the statement was empty. What should have, by all accounts, been just a couple of inappropriate jokes had quickly escalated into an attempt at a date with two young men. Valmúa was essentially the embodiment of "carried away."
        With that, she winked at them, and turned around to the Watch. She smiled to herself. What fun.