Mudminnow River fiend

that first night they rested under the eaves of a splintered oak, indra had heard the hound's call for her. it came quietly through the woods, a low note -- she listened, gathered her legs under her, and then drew her body tight.

she slept that night, though he visited her once more in the form of a dream she would not remember when she woke.

a few days passed, and while stigmata was out of sight, he was not out of mind. over and over she recounted the ugly rage in his gaze, the harshness of his outburst. he was dangerous.

was he dangerous to her?

finally finding it within herself to leave the hollow and subject herself to his irate presence, indra weaved along the trees that bordered the sleepy realm's claim. he was here -- she could detect his threading scent, which needled in and out of the woods like fine bands of roving mist.

and then, there he was: skulking along the borders with a bitterness to his dulled gaze. she held him in her sights a while, probing the mood between them with a flighty mien.