Honeyed Pasture bol, radha, bol

he'd wandered off a ways, and secluded himself, afraid to run into any other women in heat.

but sumer was acumen in, according to a song aditya would never hear, and the weather swelled and boosted his spirits. perhaps there would be no more lustful eyes here.

except, as he stepped across the bounds of the honeyed pasture, he recognized a scent.

her scent.

and it had changed.

adi walked slowly, carefully, as if navigating a minefield. his ears swiveled nervously, and his fur stood on end. he wasn't sure if he could face her, if. . .

but she—they! were so old—

it wasn't possible, and so perhaps this could be merely a reunion with a wolf whose company he had enjoyed.