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

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.