he came from the snowsplattered vale at a silent lope. behind him his tracks splayed plainly in the snow. their imprints a soft blue, clean and crisp on the uninterrupted white landscape. in his muzzle he held a frozen quail, its limbs stiff and outright. a single talon curled back like a gnarled finger.
the woods he had come to know seemed foreign to him now. the bodies and macabre sigils that marked the borders seemed the same, but he was different. they were different. he set the rigid prize in the snow and tilted back his head in a howl for
her. around him the snow fell in dull quiet, and no bird sang.
he sat in the snow and observed the muffling way the snow fell. the woods seemed muted, bled of their sinister aspect by the fresh pall of pristine white. the crunch of snow announced an arrival and he rose and placed a paw over the quail protectively until the gloom parted and relmyna's slender form emerged.
he could not help noting the bulge of her features and the drop of her slender ribcage; he watched as her hips roved with each stride, her barrel swaying side to side. he said nothing but pulled back his claws, leaving feathers akimbo over the lifeless avian's corpse.
another gift, should she take it.
she did not trust him.
he did not blame her.
he was aware of the long look she delivered, and the careful workings of her mind -- he was not privy to her thoughts, but thought he could reasonably decipher from the reservation in her expression the nature of her introspection.
once she had studied him long enough, she reached for the quail and he did not stop her. instead he rose slowly, making his intentions known by the deliberate carefulness of his movements, and turned his back upon her.
he was open for attack, should any come -- in slow steps he made to leave her alone with her meal, as he assumed she would likely prefer solitude over his egregiously unpleasant company.