Flycatcher Downs now that you're done shuffling the tits off the queens

"Skwol!" His blackbird called, prancing through the snow and slipping into a play bow, hips swaying and eyes beckoning. "Come onnnn," she teased as she whisked herself through the trees and down the slopes, bounding across the meadows with the elegance and grace of a young doe. He chased after her, toward the river where the sun was setting, toward that future that had been promised to them so many moons ago. "Skwol!" She called to him.
"Skwol!"
"Skwol!"
"Skwol..."

The white wolf started to stir. "Come back..." he murmured as his forelimbs stretched out and his massive paws dragged through the snow. He could not reach her. The black girl with the dancing tail faded behind his eyes but he thought he could still smell her, ready for his possession.

"Skwol!"

Skwol jerked awake, clambering to his paws like a newborn moose, awkward and unsteady as his plush ears flung forward and he bristled defensively. "Indra?" he squinted, slowly anchoring himself in the present and allowing the furs along his neck to lay back. She was gone, but her scent... Skwol shook his head in bewilderment. "What—"

He heard it then. The baleful yowling of the devils as they soared nearby. Their threat sharpened him and spurred him into action. Snarling and slavering with the ferocity of a cornered bear, his fierce yellow eyes scoured the skies as he stepped around, his fangs aching to clamp down on something. But the devils moved on by them to hound some other unfortunate souls, and his wild savagery came to lay squarely on a young female hurtling towards him and Indra.

The white wolf roughly shouldered by his companion, denying the interloper a clean path to her, and prepared to receive the threat with a hateful roar and teeth bared at the ready.