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

her hackles stuck up rigidly in the manner of a porcupine's quills, angry and defensive. she could not quell the fear as it rose and churned, the carefully patched parts of her fracturing fast. it was when the smile crossed his maw that she curled in on herself, fangs bared still and ears plastered to her crown. it did not belong there, that ugly grin, the confidence. 

it was then that she managed a single word, gaze locked on him, shrinking back from the bold steps. "no." something must have marked her as prey to this man, and yet when next he took a step she found she no longer cared nor was capable of further logical thought. quickly had she reached the apex of her fear, and logic had been disregarded in favor of some burning, fear-borne energy that emboldened and weakened her.

her gaze fell finally to the swell of his loins, and then she moved with the ferocity of an animal cornered. her mad rush took her on a course beneath the male, fangs agape and wanting for the tender flesh, wanting to tear and to rip. it was a brazen, clumsy move, and should she manage to approach him, let alone reach her hastily chosen target, was to be seen.