((Borb's been having... distractions lately.  Big ones.  I speak to him often, so I'll bring it up ASAP.  But we're on the razor's edge, no doubt about that... still.  In the meantime...))<br/><br/>Vultana stood there, trembling, staring at the great beartaur with wide golden eyes.  The wounded wolf still had a firm, so very firm grip on her wrists, and his teeth were so very close to her throat... she was helpless, truly helpless.  He could kill her at any moment, and she doubted the beartaur could react quickly enough to stop it.<br/><br/>And yet... yet her excitement was still there... the insane heat spreading through her bare body, the uncontrollable reaction to his solid grip and the scent of pheromones as her slave-like displays incited a bodily reaction from him.  She almost regretted... no, she<span style="font-style: italic">did</span>regret that the beartaur had arrived, because it would spoil the fun, but she wasn't<span style="font-style: italic">completely</span>insane.  She knew her odds of survival should be better now.<br/><br/>Her feathers ruffled, particularly those in her tail.  It was partly as one more distraction meant for him, but mostly her own reaction to her body's impossible arousal.  She kept up the fake crying, but she took deep breaths, taking in the scent of his musk...<br/><br/>Suddenly a new smell hit her senses.  Yes, there was the undeniable stench of battle wafting from the beartaur, blood and death and other things as well as a strong odor of alcohol... not to mention chocolate.<br/><br/>But the smell that sparked her reaction was a very different one, one of the least powerful ones.  The scent of another creature the beartaur had been around recently... the scent of a rodent.  The scent of a<span style="font-style: italic">Rat</span>...<br/><br/>Vultana's reaction was definitely inappropriate for the circumstances.  Even as the beartaur was offering a swig of alcohol, the half-avian girl's stomach made a loud<span style="font-style: italic">growl</span>of<span style="font-style: italic">hunger</span>.<br/><br/>She hadn't vored a rat in ages... not since she'd still been a true slave in a cell...<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Aw, crap,</span>she thought.