Ravensblood Forest talking of michelangelo

maybe a future pack-mate? but all welcome of c~

the air grows crisper by day, the chill setting in. samothes is pleased; he enjoys the winter months despite their hardships, finding joy in the act of having to be more clever to survive. (perhaps it is a little pretentious on his part but he is not afraid to own up to that - he is vain.)

at first blush the darkness of the forest has seemed uneasy to him. nothing so much as to cause him to regret his decision, but sometimes he felt a slight tingling at his neck, unsettled. the more days he collects under it's umbrage he must admit it grows on him: he can slip into shadow easily, cradled by the warmth in the darkness. the heat and the dark is almost soothing. 

today, however, he seeks not comfort but sustenance, minding the sap-covered trees (a wonder they haven't all turned red!) as he prowls after a decently sized hare, the snap of teeth and the crunch of flesh announcing his victory in the darkened corridor.