Emberwood [m] Disaster falling on me after the sun comes up

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For @Stærk

Alone once again, Marina found it more difficult this time to keep herself from falling into melancholy. To pass the time she cleared snow from around her temporary den, narrowed the entrance with branches fitted tightly against each other. Her nights would be less cold this way, she hoped.

When that was done, she hunted. Winter had driven the smaller prey largely into hiding; a less practiced hunter, or even a lifelong pack-wolf might have gone to sleep hungry that night. Marina was patient, though, and not picky at all. She snapped up a few skittering rodents from beneath the snow before she found something more substantial.

Marina retreated back to her den clutching two little rabbits, her muzzle smeared with cooling blood. Enough to keep herself fed for the night, at least — but perhaps the Bearclaw Valley man had been right. How long could she live this way?

stærk catches the scent before he sees her, a tantalizing lure he cannot resist. it cuts through his thoughts, momentarily derailing his purpose, his mission forgotten under the weight of instinct. it has been too long, and he is only a man—flawed, and seeking release from the tension coiled within him.

his steps slow as he nears, the figure coming into view. small, delicate, her frame dwarfed by the snow she works to clear around her den. stærk watches from the cover of the surrounding brush, his golden eye narrowing, a sneer curling his scarred snout.

she is perfect.

so when he leaves, he waits for her to return. fresh kill in tow, she stows away for the night. and only then does he move from where he had settled himself like a mountain lion in wait, and he moves closer, closer.

the faintest rustle of the undergrowth betraying his approach.

Every well-traveled wayfarer knows the signs of a storm rising: the way the air thickens, the sky darkens, the world draws in on itself as if to shield its face from the onslaught. But it wasn't snowfall on the wind this time. Marina lifted her nose to test the air, to assess what she could of this newcomer.

Another man. Her ears flicked back, but she rose to peer out of her den nonetheless, her mouth glinting silver and red in the scant light. He was hidden well among the shadows, or already on his way elsewhere. On light, cautious feet she took a single step from the den, ears swiveling to catch any sound that might give her an answer.

it happens in an instant. like a shadow breaking free from the roots and snow-draped brush, stærk surges forward with startling speed. the silence of his approach is shattered by the sudden rush of movement, his scarred maw parting as he lunges toward her.

he is upon her, his scarred maw trying to seize her by the scruff of her neck. aiming to haul her upwards, to dangle her like a pup with a new toy. his breath is visible, in thick clouds of fog, puffing from flaring nostrils, heaving with the mixture of effort and excitement.

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No word to warn her; no second to breathe. A flurry of shadow sent her heart into her throat, and in a moment the full brunt of the storm fell upon her. Marina bit back her cry of shock and loosed it as a snarl instead, a thin desperate sound — but one of defiance.

Twisting to snap at a foreleg, anything, Marina struggled in vain beneath his ribs against her spine, his teeth in her ruff, his breath on her skin. A shudder flickered through her, a reminder of nature's own beckoning and betrayal. Her own will was stronger than that, she'd thought, but now doubt surged in alongside the fear already choking her.