Take me on a rollercoaster

 As her hormones budded, Valmúa felt angry. She had used this anger to catch a squirrel. She had brought this mediocre snack to @Kuhn, after speaking with @Ragnar in the hopes that he might leave with her to what had once been her mountain. She asked for nothing.
 Yet, she wanted everything.
 Wandering toward the cavern that the pair had spent much of their time in, she dropped the squirrel rather unceremoniously at its entrance. She then hunted for Kuhn, her eyes all about, scanning the horizon and its bits.
 When she found him, she promptly rushed toward him and launched her body at him, aiming to attack with a mouthing, playful mess at his neck. His warmth was all that she wanted. The day had tired her, and her body grew hot and confusing.

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Not far away, he was on his way back at the time.  Coming into the small clearing that opened up to the cave, he was immediately greeted with a familiar attack from his princessa. The red woman, wasted no time, nor wasted any words before launching her attack.

Tilting his head back in initial surprise, he didn't try to hard to defend himself, letting her have a good part of his neck. Wraping an arm over her shoulder he aimed to grapple with the woman, chuffing happily.  Because he had already trusted her to take his neck, the striped beast decided to go high grabbing one of her ears in his mouth.  Tugging gently, the cat rumbled playfully, whiskers probing the top of the wolf's head and neck.  

Finding a moment of pause, he did notice that today she had a different scent about her, it was both new and familiar but oddly good.
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 Growling and odd, playful noises followed as he wrangled her with an arm. Her ear was swallowed up by his tickling whiskers and sandpaper tongue. Her tail wagged in girlish excitement, twitching as she shoved herself at his side like she was trying to meld her body into his and make them into one frankenbeast.
 “What did you get up to today?” She asked, standing with his arm over her as her tail waved slowly from side to side.
 Valmúa had spoken to Ragnar and would go to the mountain where her brothers had once been soon. She was thinking about them now, wondering if they had been blinked out of existence, or if they had been swept up into the storm, never to be seen again. The thought had troubled her the entire day, but she said nothing. Having Kuhn in front of her distracted her, and she no longer felt angry.
 She eyeballed the squirrel idly while she waited for an answer. It looked.. funny to her somehow. All dead and meagre.

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His grapple was quick to transition into a gentle embrace, relaxing himself into the fire woman.  Not shying away from her closeness, he glided in as close as he could.  Ejecting her ear from his mouth, he planted one last lick against the back of her ear, before placing his cheek against her own.  "Scared a pup. Took a bath.", he replied, relaxed in tone, moving his cheek up and down against hers, making soft contact ticking the static between them. 

"Can you tell?", asked the tiger, with his freshly bathed coat.  He had even went through the effort of rubbing himself around in some mountain mint, going so far as to chew on the plant.  The fresh flavor in his mouth still very much present.  

Eventually, his eyes drifted to what the woman was looking at, and he to took a silent moment, to look over the squirrel.  He never could catch those things.  
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 She was quick to melt into his playful and familiar embrace. He was warm, and kind, and good to her. He was more than any wolf had ever been to her, and it had started to make her trust wolves less. That is, until Ragnar had chosen to come with her to see the mountain that had fallen in place of Mordfjall.
 “You do look scary,” she answered, eyeing him for a moment before she rubbed the side of her cheek against him.
 “Absolutely terrifying,” she went on, noticing the strange herbal smells that he had planted on himself somehow. She wanted to be distracted by him, to be overwhelmed by him, to be wanted by him. Instead, she played at a different game, even though her body said something else.
 “I am going to the mountains, where my brothers were,” she said. “I need to know whether they are dead, and what is there, and... I do not want you with me for it.” Her request was clear. As she whispered it to him, she said it as though it was a love poem, her voice peppered with spice and smoothness.
 She wanted him then, and she waited for his response to her demands.

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The big cat typically tried to conduct himself with grace, keeping his claws metaphorically sheathed.  However this woman of fire, knew how to light the primal fuel that existed deep within the large predator.  When the flames became an inferno, the cat's tempered way of being could not compete with what he was born to be. Claws that should be sheathed, and fangs normally hidden, where not restricted or unused.  Sparing nothing for his wolf, every bit of the demon that was meant to be was on display.  For her
 

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When the fuel of the fire was consumed, the cat's way of being slowly softened. Eyes that once almost spoke of his desire eat her alive piece by piece, now reflected something just as potent.  His soft gaze and deep rumbles betrayed the possession he felt for her even after the fires had ceased.  He loved this creature, he loved his wolf, his Princessa.

Smirking softly, he looked proud of what he had done to her, watching her stumble and sway from his work. Though, through the look of pride he was projecting, the fondness in his eyes could not be missed.  Laying on his side, he only invited her to come to him.  The violent, striped beast would give the woman all the gentle affection that a cat could offer, until sleep would overtake them. Even then, she would be trapped in his embrace.
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 It was these moments between the chaos that she savoured most in her life. The coolness of his gaze and purity of his beastly nature drew her back as a fine perfume would. Time and time again she had found herself unable to resist his effortless way of being. He had changed her, perhaps in ways her former self would not have liked.
 Their blaze waned to candlelight, calming and subtle and flicking in the coming darkness as the sky grew purple and navy about them. He was beautiful. She rolled herself against his orange, sunlight coat while he tended her. If she could have paused this moment, she would have, if only to drown herself in it, if only to remember that she knew how to be alive when he was around her.
 When sleep took them, she might have been the happiest she ever had been. She might have been perfect. The clouds rolled. She would leave with Ragnar soon, carrying Kuhn's scent with her.

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