Jade Fern Grove threading the needle

the snap of twig found him first.
uktark lifted his head from the wind-swept hollow, scent rolling thick and dark across his tongue—cold iron, muscle, discipline. female. large. capable. not prey.
his jaws clacked once, twice, a reflex born of focus as foam bubbled faintly at his jowls. he did not hide. did not soften. instead, he stepped forward into the open, snow crunching beneath his weight, tail flagging high and steady in unmistakable confidence.
eyes fixed on her shape through the trees, posture tall and claiming.