Ravensblood Forest Queen Anne's Revenge

meredith watched the captain’s return from beneath the hood of her lashes, perched where the dimming light caught faint against her golden fur. the scent of blood on the haunch stirred her stomach, but it was the glint in nox’s eyes that drew her attention first—something unspoken passed between them, as it often did. she'd seen him like this before: calculating, watchful, one ear always cocked toward opportunity.

she rose, slow and easy, padding over on light feet. the captives were shadows in the caves, all sharp gazes and tighter shoulders. and the one who stepped forward—brave little thing—earned herself a rare flicker of interest from meredith.

she tilted her head, considering mireille with the same mild amusement she might offer a pup who snapped too hard at a game. ah, now there’s a voice. soft, dry, nearly teasing. was wondering when you’d use it.

meredith’s gaze cut to the others huddled in the dark, then back to the obsidian woman with her fierce, sea-colored stare. she admired it, in some quiet, begrudging way. the spit of it. but admiration didn’t mean mercy.