Ouroboros Spine I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now

The paths he followed were like worm trails on the skin of an apple; they made sense until they turned along a piece of terrain he did not know was there, or stopped and started where prey might've made a leap. Raimo was chasing ghosts through the trees. There was nothing here — it was more than likely with the growing wolf population the resident deer would disperse. He made note of the paths all the same and when the need arose, lifted his leg to mark a tree or claw the bark to remind himself which paths he had investigated.

He was on his way back when the sound of something moving drew his attention. Raimo moved low but quick to cross a chasm of snow, ducking among a series of beech trees, to watch. The sound of something tearing was curious to him. He licked his lips — sucking in a cold breath across the tongue — but only found the now familiar notes of the injured woman.

Whatever she was up to could have spooked any lingering deer. Raimo huffed to himself, squinting as he watched her struggle with something in the snow beyond, and then approached. As he did so he sloughed the predatory gait from his body, loosening the tension across his top-line as he drew nearer.

He didn't get too close; she had not been very receptive to him before, even with the free meal. Raimo glanced over whatever she had been worrying at, thus spotting the otter skin, and raised a brow.