Cedar Sweep romance

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once picking her way down from the mountain without another look back at what's left of her mother's murderer—and with the breath of the bear imagined hot at her heels—Avicus re-enters the low part of the hinterlands and regathers her pack.

no one had been harmed too badly, she thinks. still, she has Ashlar see to the injured, and they make camp here to rest and recuperate for the journey home.

she prowls through the leafless cedars. the fading light casts long shadows along the white forest floor, and her patrol breaks them up one by one, darkness coming in waves over her ruddy pelt.

a yip, then movement, a mirror image. almost—

a red fox, leaping into the air to dive into the snow, looking for prey tunneling underneath. Avicus watches for a moment with quiet dispassion, then feels the anger and sorrow bubble up within her belly once more as the vixen surfaces, fur dusted pale;

it should have been them; red and white, fur tangled together; she'd die happily if she could take the woman and her coward daughter down to hell with her—

without another thought, she strikes. the fox is caught off-guard but still tries to run, and her customary snap of the neck misses the mark, teeth slicing through the jugular instead. 

blood, hot and heady, spatters her face;

good. let her suffer

bright-white rage blinds her to all but the smell of dying, and she rips at the belly of the vixen who can only gurgle in protest, her screams silenced for good and 

Avicus rips gut by gut, conquest by long strings of sinew and spilling over the ground she rolls in the viscera with abandon covering

her own fiery pelt with dark and crimson and in this reverie

her heat begins. and she thinks of @Prophet, and calls wildly for her warrior-lover.