The world spun in a fun way and she grabbed onto the first thing within her grasp, which turned out to be nothing more and nothing less than the wolf.
She frowned, trying to understand what was wrong with her. However, her thoughts were uncooperative and every time she thought she spun coherent ideas, they ran scrambled away from her fingers, looking like a bunch of attention-deficit squirrels.
What had the wolf said? Confusion frowned.
She couldn't remember. She buried her fingers in the wolf skin, feeling the muscle hard and taut under the soft fur. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling respectively under the palms of her hands.
A fingertip supported her chin and by conditioned reflex, she bent her neck. Askeladd towered over her like a giant; with her cloudy conscience, she reached towards him.
Thanks to the intoxicated state dulling her senses and thoughts, Sascha's worries and fears had disappeared as by magic.