Blackfeather Woods Angel of small death

He continued to leave silence between them, and she heeded it as it stretched on. He either couldn't speak her tongue or was just wickedly good at ignoring her. It would've bothered her more, were she not simply curious, pulled in by the dangerous glint in his eyes.

Her walls were pushed down as his muzzle found a place along her nape, and slid down her side, all the way to that wretched limb. It was no secret between them anymore, if it even had been in the first place. Her lip lifted to uncloak the sheen of sharp canines, her gaze trained on him with a glaring intensity as he drifted around the side of her. There was no growl to accompany the unveiling of teeth, and just as soon as they had seen the air, she lowered her lip once more, leaving him to survey her, a fragile offering of trust.

When he stepped away and straightened his posture in the dragging silence, she stood across from him and considered him a moment. Considered every course of action. 

..I am Synder. She murmured, taking her leg off the ground to hang as it usually did. She limped to him this time, practiced and unburdened as she could be with such an ailment. She drew around his side slowly, tentatively, eyes matched with his own, measuring the tension, her own nose skimming the shades that coloured him and taking in his scent.