Ravensblood Forest dead man's chest

And so she was delegated her task, to chase.

What a bore, and what a workout. Vermin ink had to ask herself, as they slipped through snow and shadow; would she even get a piece of these spoils? Untrusted as she was. Even if she contributed all that she could've? Deviance stirred in her chest, tempting and almost anticipatory, a budding flower which threatened to bloom.

She followed after Meredith, the silence between each hunter broken only by the softest brush of their paws against the ground; and even that noise faded to nothing as they came closer and closer to the herd.

Indeed, more than one of them looked to be frail from the harsh winter months. They had their pick of the litter. She waited, muscles coiled to spring.