Sheepeater Cliff I gave her thirty bucks that I had socked away

Nearly half an hour into her stalking did the beast collapse 'pon the cliffs. The rookie hunter knew it had scented her, and despite this it had given up. She halted just a moment, teeth finding lips in anticipation and guilt. She needed this meal, too long had she survived on scraps alone - her journey leaving little time to establish a clan. Too many times had her emotions led her to a path where she would suffer and no one would prosper. The beast was dead the moment it had gotten the slash 'cross its belly and the limp in its step - to end its life now was a mercy, not a sin.

That is how she justified her creep along the escarpment, her approach careful in nature yet her gaze one of lust. The beast looked 'pon her features, its beady eyes drilling into her soul. It knew it was dead, therefore the look it gave her was not one pleading for life but for a painless end. You can rest now. She told, voice soft and filled with quivers. The teeth that had been biting her lips found their way 'round its neck and that really was the least of it.

Loinnir hooted, a mellow sound but one that demanded her attention. Crimson now painted her lips, dripping down her delicate features and mixing with her silver chalice fur. If yesterday she resembled an angel, perhaps today one could say she looked more ghoulish. Her mismatched gaze found the emerald gleam of a man draped in mahogany, wearing a sable saddle lined with frost. Her gaze inviting, she chirped; Are you hungry? I'm afraid there is too much for just the two of us.