Fairspell Meadow she picked wild flowers

The male ignored her softly spoken command and so she took another tentative step backward. Her ghostly frail figure one might have been able to spot trembling if not for her thick pelt of moonlight fur, though she felt the fear rapidly developing into anger bubbling up in her stomach for although his attention was on her form, the words she had mustered so much courage to speak had been ignored.

Thump. Her heart, she felt it pound in her chest. Truly, she did not care if death was her only option but she had one more task to carry out before her time. Mawk, Cebra, their young - she must wish them well before she contemplated the decision to part from this world and accept the darkness she knew was waiting for her. Not yet.

The stranger, intimidating alone with the malicious glint in his orbs filled with twisted shadows. He was not to be trusted. He sprung forward, jaws wide and teeth sharp - thump, her heart seemed to plunge downward. The dove hoped beyond hope that this was not a wolf seeking flesh, or blood, or something else. Her luck was poor when it came to encounters as such, for already back in slightly younger days she had made a narrow escape from a vampire, and one too from a supposed rapist. Her legs almost trembled again at the fear. But no, she would not give this man here the pleasure of seeing her submit to the terror that she was working so hard to disguise. And her way of disguising it was anger.

She jumped to the side, though his teeth caught on her neck as she dodged his movements. When she landed her furious blue eyes back on his own figure she felt blood trickle down her neck to her throat as the dripping liquid stained her white fur and all of it's apparent purity a dark red. A snarl of her own split through the air, sharp as a knife. Not yet, she repeated in her head. For Pige was not ready for the gentle arms of the darkness to embrace her for the rest of eternity. She would put up a fight before she gave her last breath, she refused to let her life be stolen away from her grasp today. It was not her time yet. True, it was, that she might be able to flee the scene but that would only give the man a sense of satisfaction, and she did not want to give him the pleasure of having frightened her half to death.

"Fuck off," Gwen hissed through her teeth, a sharp intake of breath following. Rarely would one see the once adoring alphess curse, but the only way she could find to deal with her desperation, her depression, her anger of the world that had grown like a mutation in her chest, was with the anger. Once upon a time, she'd never been angry. How ironic it was the her first love had been the one to break her so... much. Knowing everything he may or may not have done, and everything she knew he had done, it was enough to make her feel oh so small in this world of sorrow. Worse, perhaps, she knew she was not in the ideal shape to fight, and her strength was lacking. This wasn't a good scenario to be in, and she felt prickles of doubt at her own abilities.