Meadowlark Prairie baby, you wouldn't last a minute on the creek

@Zhenya

She’d not gotten a lot of answers the first time leaving the caldera; a new friend, perhaps, but nothing more than that. She hadn’t found anything familiar to close the gaps. They aren’t even gaps worth filling and there are many more holes she should focus on but it gives her something to do. Adjusting to a new way of life, separated from where she currently lives, has proven to be more difficult than she anticipated.

In the last few days, she felt a shift. She’d gained weight and didn’t appear nearly as gangly. Her headaches are less frequent and the other small symptoms had subsided. The need her body continues to remind her, to crave only gets louder even if she physically feels better. Her mind, wired to the motive, keeps her moving through the prairie. If she can piece together how far she’d traveled, perhaps she can find the thing she seeks for most of all.

There is less snow here but the grass poking through over her head seems familiar enough. Hidden beneath the tall grasses, snow still devouring her legs above her ankles, she feels sure enough that she’d found her newest companions here—or they’d found her—but the haze remains in the back of her mind the further south she goes.

With each passing day's rise and fall, the need for blood grows only stronger. The beasts of the creek sated Zhenya's thirst for a while, though eventually, the craving for a purer line came back and this time, it has hit her stronger than ever. With her eyes peered and her ears pinned back, she creeps through the foliage on the prowl for her next meal.

There is another, though where exactly she is, Zhenya knows nought. Poking her head up to scan the horizon, she keeps her eyes open in an attempt to pick the prey from the thick layers of dry grass and piled snow.

West feels as lost as ever, knowing this will not replace her memory. Weighed down by withdrawal has taken more out of her than she'd bargained for but the worst of it is over. Her joints still ache when she walks but her head is clear enough that she's sure she can return to the caldera without much problem. She glances over her immediate surroundings with a sigh, back pedaling a step or two to return the way she'd came. The spring may offer better days once the sun has melted and dried up the snow.

The smell of another catches her attention and the faint crunching of snow, but their distance seems far enough off she has yet to worry. The back of her neck pinches and she stiffens, careful not to make too much sound as she begins her departure.

Peering over the wall of her hiding, Zhenya spots the other just in time to notice her creeping away. A low growl of frustration escapes her maw as she creeps forward, her paws beating quickly against the ground. Still, she keeps a fair distance betweeen them and relies on her small size to keep her position relatively hidden. Skipping to the right of the prey, she yips to bring attention, then skulks her way over to the left, hoping to use the possible misreading of the other's senses to her advantage.

The yip startles her and her ears swing upward, looking back forward the right. The tall grasses rustle nearby but the snow weighs down most of the movement and she loses it. She turns a little to try and peer through the foliage but it doesn't offer much of an advantage. The scent she's noticed is canine, at least, but the high pitched hip left her curious: coyote or fox. Either way, it isn't something she likes to concern herself with and her new path leads her onward again, unaware of the danger ahead.

Pleased that her scheme has worked, Zhenya allows a wicked grin to grace her maw as she whips out her tongue and licks at her nose. She watches patiently as the prey continues on its path, straying farther from safety and closer to Zhenya's jowls. She waits until there is only a few yards between the two of them and charges, hopefully knocking the other onto their side. Now much closer than she had been before, it became clear that her prey was indeed a femme as she had thought, which brought an immense amount of joy to her heart. Whether pure or not, her flesh would do nicely.

A snarl erupted as she snapped at the woman's throat, leaving her own open for attack.

It is sudden and powerful and before she knows it, she can't breathe. Her side hits the ground and every ounce of air in reserve expels from her lungs, leaving her struggling and gasping for breath in the singular second she has to recoup. Her emerald eyes widen in surprise as teeth snap for flesh and she barely has enough time to snake her nose downward to protect her. It doesn't save her from feeling the sting of fangs pierce her flesh. 

Still spiraling for breath, she tries to move and snap at the attacker's feet on the ground. She can't reach high enough as she struggles to right herself, shallow breaths still wheezing in and out. She groans in pain as she falls back, unable to clamp on anything long enough to do anything. This time, she tries to stand and gain purchase enough to flee.

There it is!

The sweet, metallic relish of a young matron's blood, pure in pedigree and virtue rolls around on Zhenya's tongue, giving her an intense wave of pleasure. However, experience tells her that she cannot afford to be so caught up in her own euphoria as she once was, else she risks the escape of her meal! With another agitated growl at seeing the woman try to get away, she uses all of her weight to pin her back down and snaps once again at the other's shoulder, hoping to be able to preserve the game for as long as possible.

a little pp, bop me if not okay

West misses the look of pleasure across the woman's face as she scrambles to get away. She only manages a single step before she's slammed down on the ground. It only exacerbates her breathing with a soft oof from her muzzle. It takes too long to recoup the second time, already tired and weak and now teeth gripping her once more. They cross over the first wounds, only to make them worse and tear punctures into her skin. A low rumble vibrates her chest as she turns her head to snap again, aiming for the anything she can swing around for. West twists her body enough to latch on to the nearest leg, this time with purchase, and uses it for leniency on her attack.

Zhenya pulls back with a wince and a whine, though not quick enough to save her limb from the woman's jaws. Enierhičny, yes? she cooes with a sickly lilt. An expedited moment is taken to wipe the pain from her frame and try to regain her hold on the woman, surely ready to make her escape, though the pain in Zhenya's newly injured forearm is too much for her in the moment. A bark and a snarl rip from her maw as she attempts to go in for another attack, the metallic nectar still dripping from her chin.

;) I feel like this is what it looks like

She’s given reprieve for a moment, hitting the ground she hadn’t realized she’d been hovering by the grip. Her shoulder stings and blood drips down into the snow, splashing the frozen ground as she works to stand again. The other says something but she doesn’t understand and while part of her wants to look back and figure it out, she knows she needs to get away. She lunges forward to get a little ground beneath her, all her fur standing up on edge, but she’s gripped by the rear and brought back down to the ground. It feels like a lifetime in just a matter of a few seconds and she knows if she doesn’t get away soon, the mad-woman won’t stop until her pulse flat-lines.
 
West growls, curses beneath her breath, and tries to pull her body up once more despite teeth sinking into her flank and tearing the sensitive flesh. Fur flies easily from her the grip and she tries to dip her hips but it only causes her to land on the ground again. This time she rolls over, jerking away (and tearing more of her skin) to get from her grip. Her jaws snap at the woma.’s face to prevent her from getting any closer while she shuffles and backs up, now facing the psychotic bitch.

Now facing one another, Zhenya can see just how much damage she has done, making her ego swell with pride. She shakes her pelt free of annoyance (who wouldn't be upset by a meal that just wouldn't go down?) before growling and lunging forward, though only a step or two so as to not actually touch the woman. She licks her maw for a moment, sighing in pleasure from the taste of the woman's blood. Run, she whispers, a mocking laugh building as she prepares to give chase.

It is quiet for a moment, both women apart from each other, chests heaving and straining for breath. Her lungs still ache from the wind being knocked out of her but it’s getting easier to breath despite how strained and exhausted she is in that moment. Her head hangs low to protect her neck and she stares with hardened emerald green eyes. The woman lunges and West retracts several steps back to try and avoid it, not realizing she wouldn’t have been close anyway, but the word run is clear enough. Not being a woman to needlessly fight, she’d take the opportunity to remain intact any day and the cackling laugh of the mad woman sends a shiver down her spine.

She doesn’t need any more motivation than that.

With everything she has in her being and through every painful jolt to her body, West runs.

Seeing as the prey has made her decision, Zhenya makes hers as well. Just as quickly as the woman takes off in front, she is following from behind, though the pain in her forearm sends sharp pains throughout her body with each step. She whines quietly, though the exhilaration keeps her moving onward. After a fair amount of running (at least in Zhenya's mind), she begins to slow until there is enough of a distance between the pair for her to know that the game is over. She falls back and retreats before licking at her own wound and limping back to lap up the blood splattered snow.