Dawnlark Plains ⋆ Wāpēkwa

siamiituuq smelled him first—sharp, male, bigger. her ears flicked back, tail curling low between her hocks as she melted into the snow, her body drawn small against the vast white. she did not challenge him, did not dare, only let the tension coil beneath her skin like a string pulled taut.
he was close. her breath wisped in the cold, her ribs shuddering with the effort to remain still. she lowered her head, ears flat, pupils dark and wide with unspoken understanding—i do not want trouble.
a soft whine, a chuff barely above the wind. she licked her lips, an appeasement, shifting her weight to expose the vulnerable curve of her throat without fully submitting to the ground. her body, lean and thin beneath her thick fur, trembled lightly, but she did not run. flight would invite pursuit.
her gaze flickered, wary and quick. hunger carved both of them, but he was larger. stronger. she would not challenge him for whatever scraps remained. she only waited, ears pinned, the shallow rise and fall of her breath the only thing keeping her from dissolving into the snow itself.