Blackfeather Woods the dj was the last to leave, she had well conditioned hair

@Relmyna

he came from the snowsplattered vale at a silent lope. behind him his tracks splayed plainly in the snow. their imprints a soft blue, clean and crisp on the uninterrupted white landscape. in his muzzle he held a frozen quail, its limbs stiff and outright. a single talon curled back like a gnarled finger.

the woods he had come to know seemed foreign to him now. the bodies and macabre sigils that marked the borders seemed the same, but he was different. they were different. he set the rigid prize in the snow and tilted back his head in a howl for her. around him the snow fell in dull quiet, and no bird sang.

she had come from one of the terrible grippings, the thrashing that left her drained of strength and lips flecked in bitter foam. and it seemed on this particular day, relmyna had bitten the inside of her jaw. plaintively she spat the blood onto the snow outside her den, where she had fallen, and climbed to unsteady legs.
the oily song of the reaper flowed o'ertop the jagged trees; she narrowed her eyes in consternation but drew herself toward him all the same, unbalanced by the weight of her gravid body and thrumming with a shameful hunger.

he sat in the snow and observed the muffling way the snow fell. the woods seemed muted, bled of their sinister aspect by the fresh pall of pristine white. the crunch of snow announced an arrival and he rose and placed a paw over the quail protectively until the gloom parted and relmyna's slender form emerged.

he could not help noting the bulge of her features and the drop of her slender ribcage; he watched as her hips roved with each stride, her barrel swaying side to side.  he said nothing but pulled back his claws, leaving feathers akimbo over the lifeless avian's corpse.

another gift, should she take it.

another gift; she smelt the crimson of broken blood feathers before she had drawn too near to the man. hunger compelled her — caution gave her pause. this was the second offering he had brought her; she watched the features of the devil's face for a long and suspicious moment before her own countenance settled into a wry sort of invitation.
the man had never kept secret the rove of his eyes over her flanks, not before, and not now, when they had grown round and firm with the incipient litter. perhaps it was her body he wanted, and relmyna did not need to mull upon the idea to know she found it strangely less than repulsive.
extending her own small paw, the evoker settled across from the man, meeting his flat golden stare as she drew the quail across the snow toward her. with only a moment of hesitation, punctuated by a last seeking look, relmyna lowered her crown, the line of her neck vulnerable to the reaper, and began to nudge her teeth beneath the feathery hide.

she did not trust him.

he did not blame her.

he was aware of the long look she delivered, and the careful workings of her mind -- he was not privy to her thoughts, but thought he could reasonably decipher from the reservation in her expression the nature of her introspection.

once she had studied him long enough, she reached for the quail and he did not stop her. instead he rose slowly, making his intentions known by the deliberate carefulness of his movements, and turned his back upon her.

he was open for attack, should any come -- in slow steps he made to leave her alone with her meal, as he assumed she would likely prefer solitude over his egregiously unpleasant company.

relmyna trembled between the poles of her hunger and her wariness in his presence; she ate deliberately, proving her fearlessness to the wraith. but her gaze rose to watch the narrow line of his back disappear into the shadows. this time, she did not call him back to her — the woman gathered the bird's remains into her muzzle and turned 'round the opposite way, intending to deliver herself to the cool recesses of her small den, wherein she would allow his face to return to its biddable place in her mind's eye.