Nocturne Summit ❁ And damnit, it's kinda weird

It was by scent that he pursued after the flowery dove, his nose pressed low to the ground as he trailed her path like a starving beast. Behemoth was he, bewitching was she — beauty and the beast. He kept his distance, nostrils flaring at the scent of blood in the cool night's air. Beads of scarlet reflected in moonlight, and he lowered his lips to the floor to taste a drop of crimson on his tongue. 

Like drug and addict, he continued his chase until he found his prize atop the summit. Wounded yet pristine, he watched as she clean the cut along her hind. Heart beat steady in his chest as he revealed himself to her, silverly eyes drinking in the sight of her like a drunkard. He roved over her frame unabashedly, her feminine curves stirring a desire he often left dormant. 

Beautiful, wispy thing — she would make a fine candidate.