Porcupine Ridge all you have is your fire

Because I neeeed to

Her svelte form moved with hidden trepidation, despite the fluid movements that portrayed grace. Her gaze lifted to the moon, her nostrils flaring as the cold smell of winter stirred her breath to exhale condensation, and it was only when the world seemed to suddenly fall silent did she feel the fur along the back of her nape bristle—the feeling of being watched overwhelming.
 
Her eyes cut through the night—adjusting to the form before her, his dark pelt melding him to the shadows. As if teasing her, the wind finally brushed his scent past her nose, and she withheld amusement as she regarded him with open intrigue. “Good evening, Shadow Hunter,” she purled, her smoky voice softer in the cool air.