Jade Fern Grove She-Zeus

The prospects of a hunt had taken her from the bypass into the neighbouring grove. She was well-fed once more so it was not hunger that drove her, but the need to fill caches and sink her teeth into warm flesh.

Trailing the scent of a young spike elk through the snow-swept trees that she blended into with such ease, Dione found her focus slowly crowded by thoughts of frustrations. It was strange, out of character, off script.

But then again, she was in a strange situation these past few days.

From the moment she was born, her parents had stamped a label on her. Each of her sisters were named after the wives of a god king, Dione was no different. She was given the name of a titaness, an oracle, a goddess of lust and fertility.

The she-Zeus.

She had supposed it suited her well. Throughout her entire life she had dominated her relationships, taken control of weaker partners and found pride in it, but now the cracks of insecurity were beginning to appear. Was she wrong to act the way she did? Did it make her undesireable? Was she meant to be gentle, soft, silent?

Dione spit a growl to the ground. She refused to entertain such thoughts or let them take away from her task; she threw a howl up into the air, an offer for others to join her hunt. Company would bring her outside of her head.

The promise of activity-- life-- brought Siofra deeper into the valley. For most of her youth, food and resources had been laid at her feet. Wrapped in emerald seagrass. The hunt was of no concern to her; a task left for those specifically designated. However, the life of an exile offered no such luxury, and hunger did not care for circumstance.
There were two options: adapt, or perish.
And for a woman who was woven out of the fibers of resilience, the sun would sooner refuse to rise than see her cave. A call echoed across the pale grove, and she found herself abandoning the independence she so often clung to. 
Her course shifted, her pace quickening into a fluid bound.
What she came upon was not prey, but rather a pale titaness-- one carved from quartz and beauty. Siofra's crown raised, her raven-dark silhouette stark against the snow's sheen. The woman beyond was unknown to her. But the scent of elk was heavy among the breeze, and the call was unmistakable. She did not speak-- her gaze only glistened with quiet conviction. When time was of essence, speech and formality could wait. The siren pressed onwards, irises tracing the opposing lady's movement with unparalleled precision.

Someone comes to her, smaller and darker coated. Dione is no friend to strangers, but for now they will be partners.

No words are exchanged, only a silent gesture from Dione with an unmistakeable message: "follow me."

Head lowered to the wind, she finds the scent of a herd of elk close by. The group will be smaller for the winter months, and that is well suited to their own numbers.

The titaness takes off at a light-footed trot; there is no time to waste if they want to spot the herd before the bull spots them first.

Her experience was limited, but she was no fool, and the wilds were an exceptional teacher.
She would be no disposable weight. No burden.
The hunt was a game of death. It demanded more than brute strength-- it required strategy, perception, both of which she excelled at. The pale woman gestured before departing, and Siofra pursued, her head lowering against the frigid winds. A viper weaving between the trees-- silent, lethal.
The beasts loomed ahead, stagnant. their breaths spiraling in puffs of white. Magnificent creatures-- however, their might paled in comparison to their Spring beings. It would undoubtedly play in the predators' favor.
Subtly, the Siofra slinked back, pivoting to cover the left-most flank. A distance was maintained-- not out of fear, but of acceptance. When the earth was cloaked by winter, her dark form betrayed her stealth. She would allow the pearl woman to initiate before falling into place.

The herd is uneasy, and Dione has no doubt that they already know they are being watched. She watches over them silently, narrowed eyes searching for a target.

There. A cow thinned by winter, but not so much that it wasn't worth the effort. She barks to her partner, barely more than a puff of her breath; this is the ideal target.

She doesn't wait much longer before charging forward. The bull elk sounds the alarm, and the herd scatters. The thin cow will soon fall behind, this she is sure of, and then their meal will be set.

The call echoed throughout the lands, rattling through her bones. It ignited a fire within her veins-- one she suspected she would never fully grow used to. The burn of the hunt. The dame shot from the trees in pursuit, her ears flat upon her head: a shadow solidifying into a blade. A cow-- thin and fatigued-- lagged from the herd's numbers. 
The one the stranger woman had signaled.
Siofra descended upon it, eyes squinting against the thunder of hooves. Here, time seemed to blur into nothingness. A flash of movement, gone before it could be processed. However, against the chill of upturned snow came an undeniable warmth: the heat of ivory fangs sinking into flesh.
A leg.
the cow staggered, but she did not yield, and its solemn fate grew increasingly evident.

Her partner grabbed first, and Dione followed with a lunge to the elk's shoulder. Her full weight was put into the attack, large front paws gripping flesh while teeth tore into muscle. Ocean eyes burned with something unable to be named, muscles tense with the effort afforded.

The cow was no longer running under the weight of them, but the struggle was clear. Joints shook, hooves kicked in vain. She was not ready to give up yet.

Dione held out, her mind already on the aftermath of the hunt. How the meat would be distributed, what she would use the pelt for, where she would display the bones and who she could gift the remainders to. For only a moment of torn focus she looked to her partner. Dione was a lot of things, but never a thief; this time she would need to consider what was to be shared as well.