Felltree Marsh Duck Hunt

@Quail

The snow that had begun to fall did much to mask his approach. He was, for lack of a kinder or more formal term, a parasite on wolf-kind. He had always been drawn to the scent of wolves, for that meant prey — the kind he liked most of all.

This smell that he had found led to a mountain range, bordered by a marsh. He barely remembered the layout of the packs the last time he had been here. It did not matter much to him in truth. The strigoi simply honed onto that beacon of life and followed it, regardless of if anyone had been there before, or who had been there last. Most of the time the wolves were just faces to him. Voices and scents and tastes. He had not been particularly partial or adverse to any of the packs here in Teekon Wilds. They had all been fair game, amusing in one way or another.

One wolf stood out, but that young man was long gone, to his ... sadness? Annoyance more like. It made him long for another like him — weak, frail, compliant.

He could not force it however, and for now satiated himself with the normal rabble he encountered.

boldness had come to her that morn, boldness stirred by Lily and her kindness, the garden that was hers and unbelonging to any other. she'd left her little perimeter of comfort, and then gone further, beyond the pack borders and into the marsh, where she knew others would rarely go and her chance of solitude would be highest. here she wandered, first in search of plants and then merely for the sake of wandering when the snow came. it was unseasonable, but she supposed winter must always have the last word. 

the man she came across suddenly - her awareness had not been exceedingly bright in the first place, sure as she was of her solitude in the murky place, and he moved with an easy grace and quiet. she paused, stilling, as she was surely in his path and sight, and her boldness fled like hare before dogs, already feeble to begin with. she folded in on herself, drooping, ears slicked back to her crown and tail curling tight to her abdomen, hoping that he, like the rest, would see the utter threat and look through her, wandering on.

In the half mist of the snowfall a figure materialized in his sight, solidifying until he could make out her — it had to be, right? — shape and species. A small lupine. He grinned, slow and sweet and entirely untrustworthy despite its masking. He was glad that he found her. He didn't know how long he would have wandered here before coming across someone else. While his stomach was relatively full it was more than hunger that drove him to feast on wolf blood.

What are you doing, dear? He coos to her, slowing his approach as he locked onto her form. He'd seen this tactic before. Another little man had done the same in a vain attempt to dissuade his approach. Didn't they know that just made them a sweeter target? Don't hide from me.

he slows and stops, but it is his words that has her heart freeze and dread spread over her chest like ice. Dagmar had been frightening, but utterly child-like in mind and thus easy enough to dissuade and run from. but the man's words were smooth like honey and sharp with intellect, a combination that she knew brought only disaster. oh, how foolish was she! he took a step near and she melted onto the ground, utterly submissive and folded onto herself. 

she does not dare reply, but his later words are something of a direct command, as despite how it wars against her innate desire to do just that, she pulls her gaze up and toward him until it rests on his chin, and there she pauses.

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Permission to PP granted. Blood and gore. Typical vampire stuff

He approached, approached, approached until he was hovering over her. His eyes raked over her prone body. Emotion bubbled up within him until he burst with glee, a chuckle in his throat exploding into a laugh. How easy this was! But he couldn't revel in it for long. No. He was close to a group of wolves, somewhere high up in the mountains. He could smell others on her fur. He had to move quickly. I'm not sure, His laughter began to die away, but mirth still drenched his words as he swung a limb over her body, straddling her. He moved his head to her ears, lowering his voice so only she could hear him. If it would be more fun if you ran or not, He began to push at her head to straighten out her neck. But I can't risk you getting away, can I? He licked his lips, deciding. No, he couldn't kill her. Not this close to a potential savior or two. But he could still take. Not when you've offered yourself so quickly to me. With that, he sunk his fangs into her shoulder, groaning in delight as the first burst of blood met his lips. He bit down, as deep as he could without tearing the muscles too badly, just enough to encourage a flow of blood from her wound. When he tore at her as much as he could, he began to lick at the gushing blood vigorously, slurping and groaning in a disgusting show of ecstasy.