A lone ear turned to receive the invitation - lured briefly, deliriously - by the whisper of seduction towards him, through coiling, restless flame. Its wilted length remained near, willing on his resolve.

Silken threads, mostly black like ebony wood, licked with foreign fervour across dark tightening hocks; and fire like that of her suddenly ravenous soul, licked at dappled fur above that was quickly becoming saturated by the swell of intoxicating lust. It was a feeling as wonderfully shocking as cold desert rain. A breathtaking torrent of water spewing through drought-sick veins, feeding every nook and cranny until her body could bear no more. Wildly she shuddered, drawing stunned features from his warmth for only long enough to recover. Then she returned like an echo off stone, finding instead of leather, the fabled glow of moon-kissed white beside black, shadow that spilled down away beneath his belly to blend into the night. With pursed lips she rode the sleek ivory rollercoaster fashioning his barrel and hot breath, filled with anticipation, reeled on ahead.

No detail was left to imagination as she crept so softly with closing eyes below his wing.

She thought of no other as she revelled in his company and though she felt bewildered still by the irresistible cocktail of chemicals heavy in her bloodstream, the feeling of boundlessness fed an unashamed euphoria. Why would she pull away?

Her voice murmured incoherently in answering – drowsy – and drunk like a fish. The ribs tapered finally beneath her touch and she ventured north to find his loin, eager as a mountain stream’s flow, but with such slow precision all the same, that her appetite seemed never to satisfy. Africa wanted it never to end and she lingered as long as she dared, teasing and taunting her own desire so that nerves sparked ever more zealously beneath her own steaming skin. The musk rising in aura about him – the stain of Earth, of this lush wonderland – filled every sharp breath she inhaled. It was more thrilling even, than the taste of pollen on the wind after the deathly cold of Frostfall.

Mild midnight wind tousled long, hanging tendrils of mane and chilled coat bristled as it passed by in eerie silence. Though the realisation of adulthood ripened her mind like never before, the Starry-Eyed still felt the same exciting tickle of enamour that had plagued her in the earliest of their days together.