Fairspell Meadow she picked wild flowers

The pale wolf moved swiftly. It seemed that she had successfully anticipated his imminent lunge. She darted to the side. His fang clipped her neck and drew blood. This created a shark in water effect. The scent filled his nostrils and the patchwork brute shuddered with delight. It was always more fun when they attempted to flee. This would provide him with a better experience overall. The sharp tinge of metallic crimson that filled the air was intoxicating. Ithrik could hardly contain his excitement. A short snicker slipped from his mouth as he watched her move to the side. A defensive and angry expression had crossed her features. 

That anger seemed to have filled her to the brim with a new fire. She cursed at him and the hound could do nothing more but to laugh at her again. Did she believe that words would be detrimental to him? Surely she should have imagined that she was not his first victim. The devil was well rehearsed in the art of hunting prey. She was nothing more than his next tally. But Ithrik was eager to cross that mark. 

The vile hound began to circle her. His eyes held her own with a raw intensity. The fiend was entirely amused by the reactions she was affording him. With another jolt, Ithrik moved forward. This time, his gaping mouth was aimed for her shoulder. If he should miss his mark with his fangs, he was hoping he should be able to knock her from her feet with the force of his body. Both eyes danced like fire in his attempt.