Phoenix Maplewood if loving you is a felony now then i'm a renegade, riding

He stopped. He heard movement ahead. The smell of another and a skinned animal he was not familiar with. He scanned, trying to pick out and distinguish her russets amongst the maze of dismal browns and grays of a winters forest.

Slowly, he moved forward. Enough to expose himself more, shedding light unto his pale, stormy frame. He wondered who she was, and what she was doing with the fox skin at her paws. But he seemed indifferent, remaining stone face. "Yeah. Target practice." He stated bluntly, a glare deep in his eyes. He was hurting. Fit to burst.