Quickly, they both shed their clothing and shifted. Ginger's senses blazed to life, the glorious scents and sounds of the forest swirling around her as they dashed through the woods. She could smell rich loamy earth and the scents of every kind of tree and the berries on bushes, and the sun warmed her fur as she followed Loch. He weaved through the trees, leaping over bushes and logs, and they ran and ran until they finally came to stop by a stream bed. Loch bent over the bank and dipped his head to drink, and Ginger did too, their long pink tongues curling the ice cold water into their mouths. There they both shifted again, and stood naked on a bed of moss by the running water. With a growl, Loch swept Ginger into his arms as if she were light as a feather, and then set her down gently on the moss bed. He grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms above her head, sliding on top of her. His muscular body was covered with a sheen of sweat, and he was breathing hard.