Greatwater Lake mephisto

she grew hungry and demanding as the days progressed. for a time she pined for the strength of the darkwood man, khaba, but found her attention shifting to other people and other pursuits - chiefly now, hunting.

zharille was as enamored by @Dhizok as she was by the other menfolk she had collected; seeking him when she could not find khaba to satisfy some of her hungers.

she crossed paths with the scent of @Dagur close to the water, and paused there, tasting the wind. many scents had built up here with her own being strong, even after her heat tapered.

i have been denying myself in joining other threads of yours while trying to wait and see how the other thread went, but i refuse to let another one pass me up!!

Tarantula still lingered, making no demands of the she-wolf that had drawn him here, despite the fact that he felt an edge of possessiveness over her. There were other wolves here too, several of whom had been reeled in for the same reason he had, and he wisely avoided them in preservation of his own body. He didn’t know these wolves or trust them, and he wouldn’t fight anyone he didn’t have to.

After all, he couldn’t be sure that a mere skirmish for dominance wouldn’t turn into some stupid, bloody affair.

The murkwood agouti scouted about until things had calmed somewhat, then returned lakeside with a gift for the would-be matriarch in the form of a plump winter-white rabbit, stained red by its untimely death. He approached her, rabbit dangling, and dropped it for her to take, taking several steps back from the meal meant for her.

the scent of fresh blood drew her attention soon enough. attached to the limp white body was the familiar shape of the tarnished man, gilded in silvers; he dropped the offering as one might bequeath a sacrifice to a volcano: hastily, and with a great skittering away from the possible results. zharille was upon it within seconds.

it was fresh and hot, and satisfying. she tore in to the rabbit without compunction. flaying parts, wasting little. the pelt of the thing was ruined by the end of it, with only the little head leftover, which she sought to crush in her molars whle the ears flopped about like trampled weeds.

having gorged herself, she was in high spirits - and looked eagerly upon the man as if this had been her intent all along, to see him again!

Tarantula reclined upon his haunches as his mistress descended upon his gift with a ravening tear. He watched her for a few moments, and then swiveled his attention about their surroundings, looking to see if another of her followers would join them. But none came before she finished, and it was the crunch of the rabbit’s peanut-shell skull that drew a flick of his ears and a downturn of his eyes to observe the she-wolf once more.

His tail wagged proudly at the sight of her satisfied expression, which drew him into a stand once more. He pranced in place. More?

zharille advanced upon him, her face marred with blood from the offering, and moved as if to assail him. all that came of the action was the smack of paws upon the earth and then in the next instant, a playful shove, and the rumblings of a happy, carefree woman.

Rather than chasing down more suitable prey, it seemed his mistress had plans to make him her quarry. Taking in her giddy mood, Tarantula spun around when pushed and galloped off in a way that incited her to give chase. His long legs carried him far very quickly, but if she planted herself at any point, he would circle around and start to harry her sides until she saw fit to put him in the dirt and engage in some snowy wrasslin’.

between their jousts, zharille made sure to show signs of welcome, of softness (in whatever liminal form that took), so that he would know this was a game. that none of his snaps or quick, harrying strikes were seen as anything else. it was typical behavior for two playful teenagers (not so much expected of adults).

when she'd had enough of it, she reached deftly for his shoulder and grabbed it with more fervor. this was a correction, and she left his skin with a subtle bruise as she caught her breath. but he was already lunging through the snow and somehow dragging her along, so that they tumbled together!

for a flash zharille was on her side, her belly almost exposed. she felt vulnerable and coughed a guttural sound while twisting against tarantula, eager to get back up, lest he think he'd somehow beaten her. she did not like to be reduce in such a way, even in the realm of play.