Snowforest Taiga breathing fire

the wind wrapped itself around gjalla like a blanket, dark curls billowing out with the force of the wind. specks of snow clung to her fur in dustings, flecked along her spine like the stars in the night.

the princess clambered through the snow with short steps, paws sinking into a fresh dusting of snow in blissful silence, head dipped low to follow tracks imprinted into powder snow. the moon hung like a faint crescent in the sky, casting a soft glow over the tops of the trees as the last remnants of daylight bid their farewell. time had slipped through her paw unnoticed, lost in the rhythm of her footfall.

a coil of tension curled around her belly with a rumble, an aching reminder of the emptiness there. sanguine hunger lingered in the corner of her mind, tugging against the chains of her attention. the soft sounds of rustling leaves and scurrying critters seeking shelter from the encroaching darkness do nothing to silence the snarl of her stomach.

even under the night's cloak, there was nowhere to hide if you weren’t as white as the snow that’d fallen. this doe would not be so fortunate.

she’d waste no time tonight, thrusting herself forward as the scent of something more hit her nose. a heady scent — musk; another wolf, a stranger. painfully unfamiliar, though not strong enough to make her weary. she closes the thought to recount later. better things to be doing, she thought.

the beast squeals nearby, so gjalla gives chase before it becomes out of reach. the doe plowed onward, but her leg ailed her. it wouldn’t be long now.