Duck Lake [m] watch the fall

When she met those pale, pale eyes in the dark, River froze on the spot, pulse quickening.

But another break in the clouds, and the living shadow assumed wolfshape; a stalwart, frost-caped figure made of cast iron. The thud of her heart refused to slow, even as she determined that there was no obvious threat anywhere along his rugged lines.

By inches, River crept her posture back into an easement. How long have you been there? she wondered aloud, voice almost a laugh. It seemed a dip in her vigilance had occurred, which was both ironic (given how vulnerable she was) and expected (given the haze of hormones clouding her every action and decision). At least she didn’t have to wonder what had drawn him this near; she was sure her hunger had manifested the dreamshadow.

Muzzle lifting, her nose worked to detect his cologne, but the wind did not favor her. Tch.

Pressing her ears forward to regard him shrewdly, feathers glinting, she gestured for him to come nearer. You’ve got my scent. It’s only fair to share yours.