Post by reva on Dec 1, 2008 19:14:49 GMT -5
A grey-white femme glided along the water's edge, her muscles contracting in practiced measured paces. Banner swishing in tune with the rhythmic padding of paws. Some claim you can determine a wolf’s emotions by looking at their eyes, but that wasn't the case here. Although Reva's eyes sparkled nonstop, the crease in her forehead and lopsided frown across her maw suggested other feeling. Her head bobbed to the left, eyeing her distorted reflection, heaving a sigh. Wolf, where are you?, she thought, an edge of irritation present. She had hoped to join whoever was lost, unfortunately, she did not know the way herself. The potent marks of wolves was impetus enough to enter these lands. This she-wolf just hated being solitary. Raised by a single parent, and no siblings to rough house all day, yet to her it was complete. Is there some conspiracy that has kept me away from the wolves here? It wasn’t this land in particular, but ever since she has been fending for her own in Anikira. Interrupting, was a growl rolling inside the wolf’s stomach which she decided had gone ignored too long. They can't avoid me forever as it is… Halting abruptly, her ears pricked, intent on picking up live meat nearby. Meanwhile, the fog was thinning enough to allow a decent path of sight.
After a brief minute, she found ,what to her experience, was two cloven hoofed animals. This registering in her brain, she contemplated the size of them, and since they were no where near a herd of sorts, she guessed it to be “a Bambi unit”. Bambi unit meaning a doe and her fawn having strayed too far and were probably trapped by the fog. Nevertheless, free game, and mouth-watering to the taste. Pivoting, she leaped off in pursuit of the meal, now using her nose as a primary guide. The trees were thickening noticeably and she slowed her run into a trot, the scent afresh in her nostrils. Once upon them, she was quick to transform the trot into a stalking crouch. Her yellow-green orbs immediately locked on the suckling fawn as she calculated the space needed to perform. All this came naturally of the average wolf, but she was more precise with judging time and distance.
Side-stepping over to position herself diagonal to the fawn’s rear end, she stopped, concealed in shadow. One thing her face did not mask was the sheer concentration of a true predator. Adrenaline rushed into her bloodstream, preparing her body for the next course of action. Muscles poised to spring, she cleared the opposing bush, and bolted for the fawn. The doe had fled him. She veered around a tree and flew onto the fawn, driving her fangs deep into it’s neck, and with a force that flung it down. It squealed it’s last plea when the femme adjusted her grip, and poured a great deal of tantalizing blood.
Whereupon, Reva growled happily and licked her blood-stained daggers. Nothing brought her more joy than the kill. And what luck had the changing winds blew the opportunity any wolf would surely take. With anticipated haste, she dined. Before her lay what little flesh and bone remained of the carcass. That hit the spot. Out of habit, she intermittently groomed her pelt, watching and waiting for the unknown to happen. Finishing pelt-maintenance, she drew back her nozzle and howled, “I’m alone and looking for company, come find me please!”, putting emphasis on please. Dropping to her stomach, confident that it was going to be answered, she settled in for a nap.
(Dunno if it’s breeding season for deer, so if you'll forgive that...)
After a brief minute, she found ,what to her experience, was two cloven hoofed animals. This registering in her brain, she contemplated the size of them, and since they were no where near a herd of sorts, she guessed it to be “a Bambi unit”. Bambi unit meaning a doe and her fawn having strayed too far and were probably trapped by the fog. Nevertheless, free game, and mouth-watering to the taste. Pivoting, she leaped off in pursuit of the meal, now using her nose as a primary guide. The trees were thickening noticeably and she slowed her run into a trot, the scent afresh in her nostrils. Once upon them, she was quick to transform the trot into a stalking crouch. Her yellow-green orbs immediately locked on the suckling fawn as she calculated the space needed to perform. All this came naturally of the average wolf, but she was more precise with judging time and distance.
Side-stepping over to position herself diagonal to the fawn’s rear end, she stopped, concealed in shadow. One thing her face did not mask was the sheer concentration of a true predator. Adrenaline rushed into her bloodstream, preparing her body for the next course of action. Muscles poised to spring, she cleared the opposing bush, and bolted for the fawn. The doe had fled him. She veered around a tree and flew onto the fawn, driving her fangs deep into it’s neck, and with a force that flung it down. It squealed it’s last plea when the femme adjusted her grip, and poured a great deal of tantalizing blood.
Whereupon, Reva growled happily and licked her blood-stained daggers. Nothing brought her more joy than the kill. And what luck had the changing winds blew the opportunity any wolf would surely take. With anticipated haste, she dined. Before her lay what little flesh and bone remained of the carcass. That hit the spot. Out of habit, she intermittently groomed her pelt, watching and waiting for the unknown to happen. Finishing pelt-maintenance, she drew back her nozzle and howled, “I’m alone and looking for company, come find me please!”, putting emphasis on please. Dropping to her stomach, confident that it was going to be answered, she settled in for a nap.
(Dunno if it’s breeding season for deer, so if you'll forgive that...)