Blackfeather Woods Welcome to the Underworld

She stood still, keen eyes watching the rodent as it roamed over the roots of a thick stump, long since worn down by weather and age. Her pale pelt ripple as she stepped forward gracefully, she was tense, like a racehorse waiting hor the trumpet to sound. Raccon, old and thin, but a meal none the less. It chattered quietly to itself, and the girl launches from the ground in a blur. Her teeth clamp around a tail, but too tight, her fangs pierce the thing and there is a release, a scream. The raccon is gone, up a tree, and the pale woman is holding a tail. Eyes aflame, she drops it and hisses lowly at her luck. She glances at the thing, pondering for a moment if it is edible, but no, for it is merely fur and scraps. 

She slides into a lope, ears pressed forward as she searches for her next meal, unaware that a great change has come over the pack, and not knowing what, if anything, it means for her. Her eyes are alert, cold like stars, and searching for something on which to wet her fangs.