Broken Antler Fen not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree

as he strung his limbs far as they could go and drove deep into the snow, exhilaration took him. she had turned to face him and in her expression he knew she had been seized by some primal order of terror. it was fear that drove her, and the excitement of that fear that rallied him. his paws struck the snow in cyclical thuds and he flattened his body so that his stride could lengthen enough that he could keep pace with her fleeing form.

it would not be easy to overcome her, not yet. instead he fell in step behind her, a wildness in his gaze as he trailed her in the manner of a starved wolf -- hungry and awful and filled with feral cunning.