That was Beauregard’s current mood. He was a wolf made amorous by the season, and the steady trickle of females into the valley had largely frozen with the creek. Prowling the desert, he was nearly always on his feet. Pacing, circling, tracking, trailing.
Keeping an eye out for any male that might express undue interest in Scabbia. And one scent in particular caught his nose, sending him weaving through the desert until it met with another more familiar. And then…
Beauregard knew enough about the birds and the bees to recognize the stink. Nima, the masculine bitch, at least had not been in heat. But perhaps that made him worse, knowing she was specifically prowling out to where he called home to fornicate with strangers. His lip twitched, and his tail flicked with it. At first, he merely kept walking past the stench. It was beneath him. Of no interest. She could let every bucking brute in the valley rut her here and it was hardly his interest.
And yet, nearly two hours later after a trip to a drinkable part of the creek, he returned. It was with a specific task in mind, and he found the spot again disgustingly easily. Lifting leg, frowning fiercely, Beauregard took the longest piss of his life. He stared bitterly at a far off stone for the duration of it, and when he finished, took a few steps away before kicking up some dust behind him.
Chin held high, tail erect with ego, he moved at a strutting pace back along his desert route. The sun was midway through rising, and the last misting of chilling rain falling silently from the sky.
Jul 16, 2017 10:48 PM
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