Haunted Wood still the raven knows if I fall

it snows heavily, now, darkness descending rapidly on the wood. silence settles too, growing thick and heavy as the snow falls more swiftly. distantly, the grating croak of a raven sounds, muffled and dim. the wraith remains on the move, depositing her scent every so often as she goes. she knows better than to haunt the main denning area; some jealous female is all too likely to attempt to drive her out from the borders, or in the least initiate a fight. she's in the mood for neither, and yet will not hide away until the height of her heat passes. instead, she hunts, stalking the most favourable game paths in search of some hunt to burn away the frantic energy gathering beneath her pelt.

His sister was dead, hunted down and torn apart by this pack and he really should be angered but after he seen her it was apparent that it was what was supposed to be done. He had taken to the borders getting aquainted with all the scents but his senses were thrown off due to the scent of females in heat and speaking of one he sees a female and lets a low chuff. He was certain he would be able to contain himself.

there comes a male, not the one she wants, mind you, but a welcome distraction. she steps easily toward him, sliding into an easy bow that is enough to show clearly what follows is not meant in seriousness. and then she moves, swift and decisive, a charge towards his left flank, jaws agape and seeking to his shoulder.