Wapun Meadow 고기를 먹고 싶어 샤샤샤

@Kierkegaard ♡ #teamgrumpygrandpa

Free rabbit if you come and play with Seelie!

The rabbit was taunting her.

Although the Groenendael cross was fleet-footed enough to snare her prey on a straightaway, the wiles of this rabbit seemed boundless. Granted, Coelacanth Corten had spent her formative years doing one of the following: a. eating a raw diet that came out of a human’s freezer, b. beachcombing for crustaceans or partially eaten carcasses that had washed ashore, c. fishing, or, very rarely, d. helping to herd the occasional deer or ram in a pack setting. Lagomorphs were out of her comfort zone to begin with — and this one, a rangy grandfather of a beast, had evaded wolves far more savvy than she. He was toying with her now — the earth was rebounding from its swarm of locusts and the plump and cottontailed codger was full of piss and vinegar.

She dropped back to a trot, her tufted ears swiveling as she lost sight of the tattered creature, a soft sigh spilling from her muzzle as she lowered her muzzle to drink from the deceptively inviting creek. When a soft rustling from the nearby foliage caught her attention, she kept her slender muzzle low, just barely brushing the water’s burbling surface with her lips, and fixed her oceanic eyes on a nearby blackberry bush. A flicker of creamy cotton bade those eyes to narrow with the promise of malice — she was hungry, and although she could far more easily glean a meal from one of the many waterways, her obsessive sheepdog’s nature had combined with the predatory instinct of her Corten blood to make the craving for fresh coney irresistible.

Her muscles tensed, gathering strength for her next maneuver, and as she whipped around and threw herself toward the lagomorph with a determined snap of her jaws, she was rewarded with the unpleasant sensation of fur between her incisors. Incensed, she flung herself forward, striking like a snake and clipping the edge of the rabbit’s haunch. He’d grown complacent, underestimating her ability to adapt, and a hellish shriek ripped from his flat-toothed mouth as he sped away, seeking every advantage. There weren’t many dips or hollows in this part of the valley, though, and the rabbit knew he was on borrowed time. He sped into threadbare meadow that had once housed a kaleidoscope of wildflowers —

— and crossed the borders into Rosings territory.

Defeated, Coelacanth skidded to a rough stop, sending a rippling spray of plant material and pebbles — and a wounded, fat, juicy old rabbit — into the forbidden forest. Slender sides heaved with a heavy sigh of disappointment, then fluttered as she caught her breath. The wolves here, she knew, needed the sustenance more than she or Amoxtli did — but she was too emotionally invested in this particular hunt to depart with her usual optimism. Too, the dark mood that had claimed her the day she met Marbas seemed keen on lingering; the hunt had distracted her, but she felt anew the sting of a lurking sorrow and turned to begin her incredibly long trek home.