Firefly Festival: The Starting Line

Of course there was a fucking race. Rags made her way to the finish line with her ambling gait, hoping that no one was staring. It was kind of Torin to escort her to the festival alongside his family. His litter was completely charming in a way that she hoped her own children might one day be. As if to rub salt in the wound, she was in heat. With her shuffling gait and obvious hormonal condition, she was already drawing an uncomfortable amount of attention. Couldn't a gal just have some clean, simple fun?

Running a race wasn't about winning, anyway. Er... or something. Rags shook her head, dispelling any doubts as she did so. Her eyes roved the crowd for any Lirim wolves and found only one of Torin's young daughters. She approached Sio, taking her place next to the girl's side. "My bet's on you," she whispered affectionately in the pup's ear.