Your dead end dreams don't make you smile

Whatever thoughts she had of her sister, of the children coming in mere days or of the stupidity of her pack-mates, it all evaporated as soon as the dark stranger came close. He wedged his nose against her cheek, and while the sensation was chilling, Dove felt a warmth budding from that point of contact. And when he pulled away, pulled back so that they were standing together, Dove's mind faltered. Her gaze drifted across his face, finding the sunlight warming the darkness there, softening his hard edges. It was her turn to be hungry - to look upon the rogue with a desire often felt by her playthings, but not by herself.

But he would not take her so easily. Whatever his own wants, Dove had her own urges. She yearned for his touch in a manner that was new to her, strange to her, and it was frightening; the game had become something undefinable. So, she did what she came out here to do — she ran. Charging through a pile of snow as she took off again, along the rising hill — but she slowed, canting her head back for a glance to him, inviting, before charging down the other side.