You're On Your Own Kid

Your solo dinning you would note always seemed to be interrupted, not only by this unseen face, but once before ages ago by a pretty lady you've known but never kept in your life for very long. It was a femme by scent and quite odorous due to the season, this peeked your curiosity but did not have such a pull to separate you from your catch. The sensations that you feel in your stomach is unsettling, an odd itch burns between your thighs -- animal nature is your worst enemy. The fact that a single scent and changing of the months can command you in a way you'd rather be void of puts you in a sour mood. Damn her, and damn her witchy female sorcerery to have your head in a cloud. Ebony auds perked in response to what appeared to be the splashing of water down the riverbank, a commotion to right and the delayed flapping of wings and loose feathers. You grumble audibly as the dawning realization that you have to be civil and practice proper introduction irritates you to a high extreme.

And as you dreaded, the echoes of padding feet only get closer.

This unknown she-wolf was really trying her luck this day, she did something so stupid it baffles you. She speaks to you why? "I haven't seen you around before. Who are you?" her question did not come off as rude or intrusive, pure and complete curiosity. And that was her issue, you guessed she was young, an older wolf would have been indifferent approaching a feasting beast... especially one of his size and posture. You warred with the thoughts of which action to proceed with, part of you wanted to snarl and send her off, or at least that would have been your typical response... however, this intoxicating aroma your company wore forced your mind to think otherwise, bait her it shrilled, invite her, please make her stay... you are defeated and you accept this in the worst manner possible for deep inside you, you truly wished her company, if only for the day and night if allotted.

"Presumably, your dinner date, I suppose." deep, accented tones ooze like honey from your pitch lips, only then do you offer a glance to the female in your presence. She is a pretty think with colors of red wine and rust, douses of storm and a dab of ebony like yourself. She captivates you with mismatched hues of azure and canary, how extraordinary. "Bertok," you are to extend, "will you join me?"