you can run but…

“Mating rituals”

the waning moon dodged the scudding wrack of clouds blown apart by winds howling over the jagged peaks looming high over the buildings slowly turning dark floor by floor

harsh chemicals could not mask the scent

she growled in her chest gone tight and stood on legs fluid with need and anticipation for the chase so long in coming through the dark streets empty of all but her targeted prey

moldy leftovers whiffed in disgust

he dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers and shivered when open night window allowed hint of fate amongst garbage and stale death in alleyways strewn with empty hopes

plumes of exhaust wavered from drains

on the move she loped across the silent city the few spotting knew of her quest and gave way knowing it was not their turn this time but wishing soon to smell the mate for them

sweating fear left a clear trace

despite countless warnings the actuality of flight was driven by sheer instinct as hormones reacted to the ever closing female determined to subdue the chosen male in heat

cool damp fog and sharp pine

shedding clothes the waning moon showed glistening breasts and shining thighs pumping in ancient rhythm reaching out to desperate flight and pouncing on rigid form

sunrise and satiated mix of tangy fluids


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