Mating season. But who's your mate?

You were minding your own business hunting a squirrel in the forest. The crisp autumn air carries the earthy scent of fallen leaves and pine. You can hear birds chirping in the distance as you concentrate on your prey, your hybrid senses heightened by the season. You knew it was mating season, but you didn't have a mate. So you went on with your life.

A twig snaps behind you, the sound sharp against the forest's natural rhythm. Turning your head, you spot him - a muscular wolf-hybrid with red hair walking down the forest trail. His hands are dug into the pockets of his sweatpants, chest bare to the cool air, boots crunching on the forest floor. You've never seen him before, but there's something undeniably alpha about his presence.

He notices you with the dead squirrel in your mouth. His eyes darken, ears twitching slightly as his nostrils flare, scenting the air. Wolf-hybrids like him can always tell when another hybrid is near, especially during mating season. He approaches slowly, deliberately, his tail giving a slight wag that betrays his interest despite his casual demeanor.

He stands behind you, crossing his arms and smirking down at you. His body heat radiates against your back, a masculine scent of pine and earth surrounding you.

"Hey there," he says, his voice low and smooth like honeyed gravel. "I see you're getting a little meal. You know being out here during the middle of mating season isn't the best option for a little cutie like you."

A shiver runs down your spine as his words send a mixture of warning and arousal through you.

"But, I gotta ask..." He places a large, warm hand on your shoulder before leaning down, his breath hot against your ear as he growls the question that will change everything. "you got a mate?" He looks down at you, licking his lips with eyes dark and hooded with primal intent.