At That Age

Her mother's ridiculousness helped to ease the awkwardness in little Tira, who broke her shyness with a giggle. Asla continued to compliment her, calling her all the best parts of herself and Mojito. If Satira's face hadn't been hot before, her cheeks were positively burning now! Floppy ears pulled back to her head some, bobbing with each movement while she gave a bashful grin back to her mother. "Thanks, Mom," she replied, considering the prospect that others could ever be jealous of her. She thought of the big red and black asshole she'd met in the previous winter and how he'd mocked her size and appearance. Was he just jealous too? Meh, maybe he was just a giant prick. Aslatiel's threat of violence to her bullies was met with another giggle from her daughter, and Satira turned her own toothy smile back to her dam. "Not if I rip their faces off first! You can tear up what's left." A flex of her paws brought Tira's cat claws out that mirrored her mother's. As she got older, she'd gotten more and more proficient at using them. And as she got older, more of Asla's fiery demeanor was brought out in her floppy-eared doppelgänger.

As her mother explained how sexuality was developed over time and experience, Satira found herself listening intently to the lesson imparted on her. Asla was very comfortable with who she was and wanted her to be the same. Tira shuffled her paws again, unsure of if she could picture herself being as cool and confident as her mother was, wooing all the ladies and men her heart desired. The importance of preparation and making sure she only became pregnant when she wanted to be was the core of this lesson, however, and soon Asla began to move onto the meat of the conversation. Satira appreciated learning from Asla's experience more than just being given a lesson like it was some classroom. This felt way more personal and less intimidating. Asla revealed the contents of her bag, and Tira's eyes immediately sparkled to life as she studied the herbs presented before her. Queen Anne's Lace, a contraceptive herb. "Petals and roots only, got it," she said as she turned the delicate plant about in her paws.

Asla asked if she had any questions—about anything at all—and Satira felt that nervous heat pool beneath her cheeks again. Yes, she had a boatload of questions! But how did she go about asking her own mother those sorts of things?! "Um... I do. I guess the first thing I'd wanna know is how you go about... y'know, 'finding your tastes'. Do I just start... like, kissing a bunch of different wolves? Will I just know what to do when it happens?" Satira thought back to when she and Azzurra were kissing, about the tension she'd felt in her belly. She hadn't known what to do with it then. Was this what her mother was talking about? Was this how she knew who she was into? "So, do I just start trying to have sex with any wolves I like? Is that how I find my tastes and skills? Is that even okay to do?" Pale blue eyes glanced up to her mother with a slight tilt of her head that made her ears sway. "How did you know? How did you develop those skills, Mom?"

"Satira"