Bearclaw Valley moreau's golem

an animal first and a hunter second, stigmata had been watching the scarlet woodling long before she noticed him. he made a quick observation of her, taking in what he could of her while she still thought she was alone, and he went unnoticed for some time -- even as she took to a pedestal above him.  he lived for moments like these; the details of her swelled to fill every corner of his thoughts and for a moment, in this predator-prey limbo, he obsessed over her.

this one was a swarthy red girl: light-footed and finely made, with an airiness to her otherwise graceful stride that served him as an earmark for her fatigue. she was younger than he preferred, but she was an undeniable sight -- and her youth didn't take from this. he imagined that in another two years, after cultivating the true gravitas and poise of maturity, she would be the most enchanting creature alive.

he was sitting, enraptured, when she sent the rock soaring his way. he had stepped back some, so that he might keep her in his sights, and her projectile landed harmlessly to his left, just several paces away. stigmata blinked at her, sitting tall with ears forward, as she realized he was there in wide-eyed alarm. her reaction was endearing, but the wolf remained unmoved in every possible sense of the word, and he waited to find what he nature was when she wasn't alone.