Wapun Meadow 고기를 먹고 싶어 샤샤샤

The racing of Coelacanth’s heart bade the hybrid blood in her veins to throb hotly — its stuttered beat grew so loud, in fact, that she did not hear the heavy crack of the tall male’s jaws as he granted the old codger of a rabbit a quick and merciful death. Her sides fluttered as her breathing slowed and she composed herself, delicately stretching her slender head forward as she shook out her inky fur. The low, guttural chuff gave her pause — she turned mid-shake, feathery fur settling in a haphazard state of scruffiness that was somehow still comely, and surprise widened briefly her shadowed seablue eyes before she remembered her manners and dipped her muzzle low in a respectful greeting. The rabbit fell to the earth with a soft thump but was forgotten in the face of the wolf who had so captured her attention.

He was taller than any of the wolves in her family, being crafted of leaner, rangier stock, and the pale ash of his fur brought to mind the spirit bears of her father’s home territory. He, too, was handsome in his disarray — the uneven lengths of pallid fur, peppered through with eldritch strands of charcoal and soot, accentuated the broadness of his shoulders and the length of his neck. There was something serpentine about the line of that neck and Coelacanth’s body curved itself into natural, easy submission despite the fact that they were on neutral ground. Of the scents surrounding the darkened wood, his was the strongest — but even if that were not the case, Seelie was a submissive creature and naturally eager to please.

Somewhat timorously — for, although he had given her the rabbit, she was hesitant to eat before the ghostly male — Coelacanth tore into the rabbit’s flesh and sequestered a good-sized piece for herself before nosing the rest of it toward Kierkegaard. A low whine, more air than tone, slipped from her lips in an enticing whisper as she invited him to dine with her. Distracted out of her blue mood — which was much improved now that the rabbit had been bested — she licked the blood from her muzzle and “barked” — a soft rush of air and a click of her slim jaws — as her inky tail wavered entreatingly behind her. Without meeting his fiery citrine eyes directly, she stretched out on her trim stomach and rested her muzzle on her paws, allowing her gaze to fix in a neutral place upon his boxy chest.