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Rumor has spread about one particular desert-princess, daughter of a wealthy priest, living in that one village in the barren desert to the southwest of the Great River. She is in heat, but no one in the Oasis-town can satisfy her!

About a month ago, her father sent out a request for any and all males to come, allowing Flint to choose from all these alphas.

Many of the males all over the island have heard of this girl, and many are panting in the sun outside the largest tent in the town-center.

Feldspar looks simply like another suitor among all of them, although many are not suited for the desert, with long coats and round snowshoe-paws uncomfortable in the hot sand.

Feldspar walks confidently through the crowd, approaching the tent. Many of these alphas strut and preen and push their way through, applying force to even the most trivial and menial of tasks. Not so, Feldspar. That would be a waste, and demeaning, and unnecessarily cruel. Feldspar is many things, and among those is not a soft-hearted fool.. but neither is he cruel. And he is certainly not wasteful.

He sees and disregards them as mere cubs. They don't belong here, in temperament, nor in nature. The south weeds out those who waste energy, and water, and time, and soon these will work themselves into collapse. Feldspar shoulders the ragged sack once again and resumes his careful approach. He didn't come here for this, not at first; he doesn't care about princesses, his ambitions different than that. But when he approached, he caught on the wind the scent of a female in need. A simple thing, a need that's as important as any other, and this one is going un-met.

Feldspar, heedless, pushes towards the tend, ignoring the glares and growls of the amassed alphas as so much lip-curling of cubs.

Flint is in the middle of nearly two dozen males, several of the smaller ones pushed out to the edges of the cluster by shoving paws and flanks, two meduim-sized alphas- one dusty green, and the other a lovely striped iron-grey and black- rolling across the sand in a fierce tussle, which lasts for all but a few seconds before the two separate, the dusty-green one slinking out of the tent as the striped male shoves his way back towards Flint.

The slender female is weaving through three or four certain males, all of these being large and strong, as well as handsomely colored- without a mutation or injury in sight, besides scars!

She certainly seems picky, hissing now and then at those who get too close too many times, and squirming away from any who try to mount her, even her choice few. Another pair rolls away from the crowd around her, fangs flashing with snarls; she hardly pays any attention to this, only a few flicks of her tail and the slightest disdainful sniff.

Her tail slides under one alpha's chin, her neck soon assailed with nips from another, her back arching as yet another noses under her belly. Several of the males she's rubbed against show arousal, but she seems to make it hard for any to penetrate her, and none of the alphas seem to want to put in the effort to really try.

Feldspar pushes into the tent and watches for long quiet moments. The air smells strongly of rut and heat and the concentrated scent of too many alphas in a small space. He's surprised it's not an outright melee yet. Finally his eyes come to rest on the cause of all this, the focus, the nexus of lust and desire and ambition.

She's beautiful. Stunning, even. There's no doubt about it, she's one of the most alluring and desirable females he's ever seen..perhaps the most. Yet that's not what causes him to frown. These males are hardly here for her; oh, they want her, or think they do anyway. But she's alone here, surrounded by half-hearted alphas who hardly deserve the name. It's a performance, and not to benefit the female.

No.. almost like a drug parlour. They're here getting high on the chase. Like cubs, or the sun-baked when the heat takes away mind and pulls one to false oasis. He drops his satchel at the edge of the tent's entrance and flexes his shoulders, cracking his neck. Taking one last deep scent of the heat in the air, his expression turns from calm.. to solid. Several males nearby suddenly turn to him, without him having seemed to move a muscle.. sensing his sudden intent.

He doesn't so much as look at them. Dropping to all fours he slinks forward, the force of his presence causing an alpha larger than him to take pause and growl. He ignores this, his focus on the female in need, eyes locked on her.

Flint lays on her stomach and pushes against a large red and yellow male, who has managed to keep her attention since he arrived and who tries to mount her yet again, only to get pushed away again.

Her ear twitches, she looks up, and around, unable to see through all the legs surrounding her from her laying position, and she is sure she wouldn't be able to see over all these tall bastards anyway. Still, her tail flicks, and she sees a few of the smaller males back off from the center of her admirers, surprised at this; those were the ones who had worked the hardest to secure a place near her.

Several of the more cowardly males slink behind more stout ones, who themselves shift their paws at Feldspar's approach.

Flint blinks her gorgeous copper eyes a few times, finally getting a look between legs to see grey paws treading solidly towards the group, those orange eyes widening. She nearly expects Feldspar to be a monster of some sort for all these males to back away, whom she thought were possibly braver than that.

One black and red alpha with a broken horn and a luscious thick coat takes a chance and swipes at Feldspar, growling with fangs bared, although his claws stay within his paws.

Feldspar doesn't stop. He doesn't even slow until broken-horn makes his mistake, a mistake that he knew would come, and will now use to take control of this spiraling situation. Feldspar's been in more than his fair share of fights, and tussled with death more than he'd usually admit. The paw swiping at him comes as if in slow motion, the alpha and his long and pampered coat of fur should have stayed in the north. Still, he's not without compassion. He's big, though not the biggest alpha, and yet despite that he's sleek and agile, and ducks beneath the swipe.

While broken-horn is still over-extended, he reaches out with one of his own big paws and shoves him just behind his shoulder, his paw coming down from that to trap one of broken-horn's own paws between his and the floor so that, when the other alpha tries to keep his footing, he instead stumbles and faceplants.

He turns to the embarrased alpha and, to dissuade him from further rash action, pushes his head right next to his and gives a single, bellowing chuff that rings throughout the tent and brings silence to the room, ringing broken-horn's ears and demonstrating to him -- and, critically, to all watching -- what awaits him should he continue to play the fool.

He pivots and fluidly continues on towards the female, his eyes once again trained on her exact place, through the croud, as if it weren't there. The power of his intent as he approaches her causes the remaining alphas to move out of that line of focus, and in that moment, her copper eyes lock onto his navy blue, and she feels the weight of his presence moving towards her as if he were like an stone avalanche down a mountainside. Inevitable.

Flint hears the broken-horned alpha's grunt as he stumbles, and Feldspar's chuff, shivering at the powerful noise, still in her laying-down position in front of her Southern-type red and yellow male, who is slowly backing away, ears flattening.

Flint's tail twitches, and she flattens out on her stomach, gold rings glinting and pelt shining as she moves. All she can do is wait for him to reach her, mind blank, without any idea what else to do! Usually she'd be twirling and displaying by now, but she's pinned by his gaze, held in place; breath quickening a little, giving off a fresh wave of heat-scent that makes the closest males twitch and sway, arousal growing between many pairs of legs!

She pays no heed to the growing lengths all around her, the tent seeming empty to her, save this mountain alpha and herself...

Feldspar's power is not born of being the strongest, though his muscles are strong. It is not from being the fastest, though he moves swift. It is not from being the most cunning, though his wit is fast. It is from the purity of his intent, and the strength of his courage and confidence. It is because his hear, like the mountains, will not crumble, and he lets that be seen through him in all that he does.

His eyes are on the female, and her eyes. She's beautiful, yes. Stunning, yes. Her bangles are shiny and her wealth obvious. But when Flint looks into Feldspar's eyes, she sees not ambition for power and wealth nor crass and simple lust. She sees his absolute unshakable certainty that he's going to take care of her and satiate her need. And the absolute certainty that she will submit to his, so that it can happen.

His own sheath is filling out quickly now, sleep, black canine member glinting in the light where it catches the fat bead of pre building up at the tip. A large pouch drops lower behind that shaft, the muscles that held them high relaxing, letting the heavy pouch sway and swing with his mighty member. More than enough male for any two females, and this one is clearly destined for her.

He reaches her, approaching from her backside and, barely slowing, steps so that his paws fall to either side of her, and finally stops, gazing down at her, into her eyes while his shaft grows and grows, dripping slow and steady onto her fur. He inhales as he does so, and his shaft throbs powerfully, and yet even then his eyes remain steady.

Finally, he speaks, and his voice is firm and steady as the mountain, deep and firm as the earth, and somehow..warm, in its way.

"Make ready."

Flint can't help but shrink away from him, frightened of him for some reason she can hardly guess, her muscles twitching, tail curling against her flank.

It's his surety, his unwavering demeanor, that surprises and therefore scares her, though she admires him already... She squirms beneath him, trying to call up her teasingness, her slyness, but it takes a good long moment; although if he makes any progress within that moment, it's set back by her scooting forward, a mischievous chirping noise escaping her as she slips away from him, only a few feet.

_Come and catch me, _her body seems to say, _and claim me. _She rolls over twice, towards him, and then scoots away again, copper eyes intense but playful, challenging but cautious.

_Come and claim me. _