You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, far faster than it would've as a human. Amy's dead, you think. Just like that. Here a second ago, now a hawk's dinner. She used to be an executive!
Shakily, you crawl to the corner of your shelter, turn around and stare at the gaping entrance. Breathing heavily, you realize distinct scents are calling out to you. From the entrance, a hint of your lovemaking, and what remained of Amy's final desperation and terror. The acrid stink of your own flight response. Your fresh vomit...a pile of half-digested acorn mush and bile. The wood of the oak all around you, the cache of acorns you'd both collected here, and...
Alongside your distress over the loss of Amy, unbidden thoughts worm their way into your mind. She had been in heat. Of course she was, the smell of it was almost overpowering. Kits were all but guaranteed. And now, no offspring...filled her up with cum, for nothing. Now who will bear the litter?
You shake your head, trying to dismiss those thoughts. Kits? Litters? Yeah, a minute ago you'd almost accepted your fate here, but now you realized the danger. You didn't need to breed, you needed to find that key as soon as possible!
Right?
Or perhaps first, you could keep an eye out for other squirrels in the area and learn how they manage to avoid predators. Survival is priority one, isn't it? And if they happened to be females, so much the better! You could gauge how receptive they are, mount them, breed them...
You shake your head again, shuddering. Amy's lingering scent was messing with your brain.
Cowering at the back of your home, you curl up and pull your tail around you like a blanket, nuzzling into it. Heart still fluttering, you attempt to get some sleep, hoping your thoughts will clear in the morning and you'll be able to form a more concrete plan.