Bitterroot Valley porphyria

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the daylight was no friend of hers. its light did not illuminate; rather, it blinded. and yet they were moving, moving through this time of light and exposure. her gaze of stone was first slitted against the sun, until the light no longer ignited a pain within the confines of her skull, and the blinding white that was the snow no longer burned. only then did her limbs move into the familiar stalking gate, made of a lethalness conveyed in the silent grace that was hers. 

she was a shadow falling behind her mother, behind the woman who's coat was saturated with night, more so than her own coat of charcoal. she does not worry at the distance they hold from each other, for never would another attempt to stray from the colony. no, for to do so would be to invite death, and would none would hold to gain from escape. 

there came a call, from the throat of the one that on occassion, wet her throat. and it seemed that he would again, as she approached without word. tongue slipping from her maw in the manner of an adder, wetting her muzzle for a brief second was the only sign of her intent. her gaze showed not a flicker of emotion before her fangs slashed open the flesh of the other, waiting for crimson to well and to bleed over the edge of the wound. though she yearned to sate her own thirst, her gaze instead moved to fall onto K'atik, for she was their leader and thus entitled to sate her own bloodlust firstly, should she so wish to.

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Sorry I'm late! If anything is wrong with this post, poke me!