Cedar Sweep Western Red Cedar

For @Envy <3

Sparse rays of light passed through the snow covered limbs of the cedar sweep, weakly dappling the forest floor. Dim and cold, the cedar trees and their overlapping limbs upheld the curtain of dark that draped over a wolf as he continued on his lonely trek through the wood.

Hawthornn's paws sunk into the snow. Only the soft crunch of each footfall accompanied him. Hibernating animals would still be in their winter homes, and those that remained awake would only brave the open out of necessity.

Hunger occupied his gut as naturally as a cat curled up in the sun. It licked at his sides and voiced its displeasure in low groans.

It was his third day without a morsel of food. The thought had occurred to him to strip the trunks of the trees of their bark. If deer found nutrition in it, couldn't he? Nonetheless, he did not favor the idea of chewing up wood. No sane wolf would like splinters in his gums.

So he walked. His path was slow and idle. Eyes of goldenrod eagerly tracing the shadows for any movement that may indicate a meal.

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Movement, he would see.

A flash of silver, in pursuit of an even quicker flurry of limb and fur.

Needle-sharp teeth reach out to snap at the ever-closer kicking of hind legs, she could taste the desperation in each stride, both her own and that of the much smaller rabbit. The white of its eyes burned with the flaring of blood vessels.

If rabbits had gods, surely, this one prayed.

But devils do not listen to prayers. It is not long before their dance is up, and Envy has won. She drags it back by the leg and is on it in a second, teeth to mangle the strongest limbs, but they did not stop there, she would keep her grip firm on the back of the beast, letting it hang from her jaws, weak, but still alive.

She had different intentions for this one. Not to eat, but to test. Subjects, for she and her lady @Ione.

Envy had not noticed the other, poisoned by hunger, watching from the bramble.

A silverred huntress disrupts the shadows of the sweep. Her pursuit of her prey draws his eye and subconsciously Hawthornn prepares to run in tandem, as he was once taught to. He's already completed a stride before it occurs to him that they were strangers. So he slows and stalks from the shadows. His body low and movements quick, eyes firmly focused on the silver huntress and her quarry.

Her intentions are unknown to him, thus her barbaric incapacitation of the rabbit is heavily scrutinized. She was an inept huntress with such poor form.

A wry smile tugged at his lip. His father would surely think the same. His old man's voice crept into his mind.

Rabbits are swift animals, with powerful legs. They are strong enough to break their own backs. Mind their claws, Hawthornn. They can blind you if you are careless.

Goldenrod eyes honed in on the battered rabbit. Poor form or not, she still captured her prey.

His stomach growled enviously. A dark cloud of frustration formed in his mind.

Hawthornn was not raised to be a thief, and he prided himself too much to start. But something about the silver huntress's hunt gnawed at him. Sure, he was hungry; it was likely his stomach.

With a steadying breath, Hawthornn's gaze turn analytical. In seconds the source of the offense was identified.

Why didn't you kill it?

The jealous anger that laced his voice surprised him, but Hawthornn waited for her answer.

A stranger stepped from the woods, all while her vision still spun from the chase. She gave a shake of head, to clear the tizzy.

Hah? She'd attempt to verbalize, tawny fur muffling what words she tried to speak. No no, this would not do, she set down the rabbit hesitantly and made sure her paws were upon it in a moment, pushing down, asphyxiating.

She spoke a universal tongue in this grinding of bony feet into the flank of the poor thing. Violence. Understood beyond the barrier of species.

Pff- pff She spits out what fur clung to her lip, a harder venture without her forepaws to easily wipe it away. I'm bringin' it home! She answered gleefully, her tail raised. We're gonna use it for better things than eatin'. Her crown dipped low now, scrawny form contorting to leer down at the bloodshot eyes of the tortured little critter.

Oh deadly sin, at least she had a virtue too! Honesty aplenty.

She snickered like a devil, falling back to her haunches abruptly, rocking back and then forward, a giddy look, a veiled taunt. You seem angry. Oh- Were you chasin' it too?

Hawthornn invited himself closer to stand opposite to the silver stranger as she acknowledged him. He ignored the creature pummeled beneath her feet, despite the scent of its blood inviting a hunger pang. He swallowed the saliva that pooled in his mouth before he could start drooling.

Thankfully, the labored breaths of the rabbit were easily ignored due to the erratic nature of woman that pinned it. It did not escape his eye, the joy she exhibited at its pain.

It did not take long before her gaze snapped up to him, and Hawthornn looked the little devil in the eyes as she goaded him.

Could say I am angry. I'm hungry more so. Hawthornn's gaze dropped down to the rabbit before he gave the huntress shrug before sitting down upon his haunches. It's your rabbit; didn't see it before you ran it through.

The virtue of honesty was not only her's to possess.

Hawthornn slightly turned his head from her, opening a sidelong eye in her direction. A taunt of his own falling from his lips.

Probably wouldn't be good to eat anyway, if it was caught by a hunter with as poor of form as you. Can't imagine it'd be useful for 'better things than eatin.'

He admitted her ownership over the rabbit, didn't bother to argue with her- which stirred this nice, warm fuzzy feelin' inside. Most woulda just lied. She snickers, furthering her weight on one paw, enough to bring forth further blood from a shallow mark; polluting the air fruther with its enticing scent.

'Poor form' she echoes in a higher tone, a mocking lilt to the melody with which she parrotted it back. Still caught it didn't I? I think you should be worryin' about your own form. she let her eyes rake over his figure, up, then down, just to send the message plainly.

She knew hunger, how it ravaged you, mind, body and soul. The quiver of a lip that fought back drool, his gaze, avoiding what he knew would sate the angry gnawing inside.

She knew that feeling, in more ways than one.

Envy met his gaze again, a burning intensity aflicker in hues of vibrant crimson. A game come to mind! ...You wan' it...? She asked now, her head leaned to the side.

Clear in the weight of her words, this offer was no kindness of her heart.

The vibrant red eyes before him dance; a flaring of pride from deep within bringing them to glimmer. Hawthornn's chin lifted slightly as more of the rabbit's blood welled beneath her cruel grip.

Even if I wanted to lie, I'm not just gonna rip a catch out of your jaws. It's not right.

He sat quietly as his honest criticism was mocked. The scope of judgment flipped onto him as she cast a merciless eye over him. Scrutinized to the bone, he was. Not that the waifish girl before him had much to loft over him; even half-starved he was still a weight-class above her.

Closer now, a pack's scent gently rose from her pelt. It made sense, she had said we, hadn't she? Had he the chance to consider it further, he would have inquired as to where her packmates' whereabouts were.

Yet the devilish girl desired his immediate attention, calling for him to answer her with a gleeful expression and a childish tilt to the head.

Hawthornn slowly drew his gaze over her, the time taken before he answered being the only thing he had in his control.

Even if I wanted it, I don't think you'd pass it over for free. Hawthornn tilted his head as she did, a quirk to his brow. Am I right?

Envy was made brave when she knew there was muscle to back her up if things got nasty.

more than brave... worse than brave. The silverspun girl found she wrought some wicked enjoyment from it all, this poking and prodding like a lab-rat, when would it bite when would it bite?

It's not right.

An urchin could hardly be familiar with a concept such as that. Moral high ground. it didn't keep you alive. If he had any sense he'd have challenged her for it already, utilized the size difference that she knew tilted the scales. Maybe he feared she'd match him with teeth.

She would.

Or maybe he just fancied himself someone wordy, someone able to drive a good bargain, wriggle like a snake out of every conflict. Was he a snake? She'd let him have a go.

Well aren't you a saint. She 'praises', though with it comes a judgement far darker than what came before. As soon as it graces her features, it gives way, abrupt, sharp. Maybe I would. She mimicks an expression of hurt Y'know you're not the only one who can be so virtuous.

Proof of her words, she leans down to snuff what life remained with a sharp bite and crack to the neck, a limp little lump at her paws now. No squirming. No more pain. She pulled it into her jaws and stepped forward, 1, 2...

Stop.

The thump of corpse on snow preceeded the knowing grin that spread across her face. Naaaaaaah. You're spot on. This amused her greatly.

but but but— It won't be nothin' too crazy. She dismissed the thought! An offense that he would dare think it! For greater prizes than a rabbit, maybe. Her gaze trailed now to his figure, ogled it for all it was worth and more.

Then she came to the ground, a pearly forelimb extending over the prize, a barrier that must be lifted before he could sate any hungers that ravaged him.

Secrets. She leered. Tell me one, somethin' about you.

Her eyes begged for something shameful.

Satisfy me, begger.

She enjoyed this greatly. The curve to her lips, the gleam in her eye. The way she barbed her words as she spoke them. Honey-sweet in choice alone, for her praise is laced with venom.

Hawthornn knew he was under no obligation to put up with it. The way she picked apart his words. The judgement placed upon his condition. Her open mockery of his own beliefs.

But he was used to such scrutiny, wasn't he?

Yes, yes he was.

He watches her show. The presentation of the rabbit, now slain, and the continued possession of it she displayed. As he respected her possession of the animal upon capture, he still gave her his rapt attention. It would be impolite to disregard her charade. She was clearly proud of it.

Secrets.

She wanted him beneath her proverbial thumb. Her eyes begging for an answer that pleased her. He leveled his gaze with her own.

It's a flawed bargain, the one you put out. He pointedly out plainly, You want a secret, but you've no measure for what's true or not. You don't even know my name.

He was her entertainment, so why not deliver?

In a languid extension of his forelimbs, the lowering of his chest into a bow. A gentlemanly smile set upon his face, I am Hawthornn Goldenwoode.

Rising once more he tilted his head to her, brow raised. His following silence was clear in it's implication.

And you are?