Firefly Glen Take you like a drug;

Fortune was a wave of the sea, rolling in and then pulled back out. She haunted scent trails of elk herds, tracks of the odd critter. Fate had pulled her luck away it seemed. 

The wraith wandered past the spires that had caught her moonlit gaze. Hunger was beginning to nest in the pit of her innards. 

A rabbit's scent had caught her nose and she followed unhurriedly, conserving energy. It proved to be a fruitless endeavor—another had been faster. Her tongue lapped at her nose, nostrils flared. The smell of wolf was soon found, intermingled in the rabbit. 

Haunted eyes fell upon the victor in the distance. She stood in place, staring, unaware that his gaze was searching for her. A short sigh tumbled out.