Blackfeather Woods the dj was the last to leave, she had well conditioned hair

another gift; she smelt the crimson of broken blood feathers before she had drawn too near to the man. hunger compelled her — caution gave her pause. this was the second offering he had brought her; she watched the features of the devil's face for a long and suspicious moment before her own countenance settled into a wry sort of invitation.
the man had never kept secret the rove of his eyes over her flanks, not before, and not now, when they had grown round and firm with the incipient litter. perhaps it was her body he wanted, and relmyna did not need to mull upon the idea to know she found it strangely less than repulsive.
extending her own small paw, the evoker settled across from the man, meeting his flat golden stare as she drew the quail across the snow toward her. with only a moment of hesitation, punctuated by a last seeking look, relmyna lowered her crown, the line of her neck vulnerable to the reaper, and began to nudge her teeth beneath the feathery hide.