so pay attention now; daemron

[Daemron]

For now, they are cocooned in a world of their own – languid in warmth after the heat of their passion. Her soft teasing is met with a rumble in his throat, the sound made in amusement as much as idle protest, while the impish retort about his smell does manage to draw out a low laugh. “Let me guess,” he mutters self-deprecatingly, the shadow of a grin about his mouth, “Wet dog?” Then Pyxis turns to caress him, and the feeling of her touch – the hush of her voice as she calls him home – it is all Daemron will ever need. Deep in his conscience, he knows that he will never cease gravitating toward her. And if she were to run again? If she were to run again, she would form a black hole her wake; for without her, he would be left spinning into nonexistence until the end of time. Her next words bring Daemron back to the present. “Yes,” he agrees quietly. “About time.” The corners of his mouth turn up, for he, too, puts on a good face despite the hurt of lost hours, days, weeks (years) – all the moments they might have had together already – moments like this. The chestnut lifts his head after Pyxis voices assent to his question. He looks around, expectant. As soon as the maned wolf had garnered his intentions, she had begun moving from her hiding place; presently she slinks forth through the dimness and pads toward them. Daemron acknowledges her with a look in his grey eyes before he shifts his focus, moving his consciousness beyond her. From deep within the forests he summons more – among them, a hulking black timberwolf and the wiry brown female that was his mate – those he knew to be swift and cunning from the hunt. Across an unseen link, their collective wildness briefly seeps into him. Unaware, he tenses and emits a low growl. His features glaze; he senses their instinct and their primal drive, feels their movements (sinew and bone) as though they were his own. Yet when he glances to Pyxis again, the feeling has passed and his eyes have cleared. He motions to Red. “She knows you – your scent – which will help. Your family should bear similar… notes.” His grin is appropriately wolfish. “I’ve sent for others, too. It’ll be quicker than if we went searching on our own this way.” Those he’d called would be some hours before arriving, at which point they could scent her as well. Then, with Red to lead them, Daemron fully intended for the wolves to scour Beqanna in search of Pyxis’ kin. daemron lost to the hunt as I was to you