Fairspell Meadow Come to me now and lay your hands over me
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#1
All Welcome 
From whence he came, Dragomir returned.

No longer an uncertain young wolf on the turn of his first year, but a broad-shouldered and capable yearling who had found his peace. Thoughts of his estranged, neglectful mother no longer visited him. Nightmares where he watched his father's throat rupture and bleed out no longer plagued him. Worry for his wayward sister no longer unsettled him. Time away enabled him to scrub his memories clean so that the only ones that remained were the happy ones.

He stood tall on the edge of the meadow, scanning the frosted grass, and pulled a long, chilly breath in through his nose.
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#2
From behind a rotting berry bush, the rogue watched, lying in wait for unsuspecting prey.  

She had been there for some time now, and her claws were beginning to grind anxiously into the dirt. Not a single thing had gone by her yet, leaving Scorpion wanting for a chase. She was perhaps even a little desperate, since it had been a full sunrise since her last successful catch, and she was starting to get annoyed by the streak of bad luck. She couldn’t remember the last time she had missed her mark this many times in a row.

Something had thrown her off her game, she figured, but before she could decide exactly what that was, a dark figure entered her peripheral. Scorpion alighted the tall wolf with her eyes, and watched in horror as he came to stand on the meadow’s precipice, threatening to disturb the peace she had so patiently cultivated. The undarling virago barely managed not to lash her tail in annoyance.

As she waited on bated breath to harshly judge his advance, the brisk wind suddenly changed directions and brushed over her, wafting undoubtedly towards the hunted hunter. She could only hope the added perfume of overripe berries was enough to conceal her...
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#3
But Scorpion remained unlucky. Dragomir was a young man who always remained aware of his surroundings and, more importantly, he was an accomplished tracker. He'd learned a lot from Hydra and gone on to hone his skills in his relative solitude. He'd needed to in order to survive and thrive for so long. Beneath the cloying pop of fresh berries in his nose, which would have been a sufficient distraction for many an untrained yearling, he caught a whiff of his observer as well. He didn't know where she was, but he knew she was there, all cold stone and sharp eyes.

He'd been taught by Hydra to approach such threats directly, nip it in the bud with his own show of strength, but time alone had taught him that sometimes there was an advantage to be had in waiting. He stiffened his stance and tail and swivelled his ears in a wide circle, enough that whoever watched him might knew he was onto them, but beyond that he appeared to brush Scorpion off entirely. A slow blink of his hazel eyes as if to convey boredom, and then he began to jog forward, perpendicular to where she lay in wait.

But from the front, his eyes sparked with curiosity and mischief as he sought to lead her on, and he angled his left ear backward to listen for her.
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#4
Ears pulled back to give her shape a smoothly sloping line — hopefully making her harder to see pressed into the grassfield — Scorpion kept an expectant watch on the princely hunter, anticipating an unaware performance from the solitary wolf.  

Except, she watched as his nose began to twitch, and her eyes widened anxiously when she noticed the telltale swivel of his ears. He knew she was there, perhaps even her exact position. The blood-dark urchin tensed into her hunkered spot from behind the berry bush, prepared to be found... She was dumbfounded when he pranced on, completely disinterested.

...what.

Scorpion couldn’t believe her eyes. Who does he think he is!?

If the thought of having been found had set her on edge, then the sight of being ignored had pushed her right over it. She was instantly envious of whatever it was he thought more important out there than she, and her predatory instincts were provoked by the male’s intelligently placed trap. She fell into it quickly, unwittingly, as she began to stalk him by design; Slinking briskly after him through the frosted pasture.

She tried to move only when he did, in a misguided attempt to mask her possessive hunt.
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His lips slid upward in a smirk. Dragomir dared not turn his head to see whether he was being followed, but kept his gaze straight ahead and his ears planed casually to the sides. Even the tip of his tail bounced comfortably behind him, devoid of the tension that being watched should have lent it. He was as cocksure as they came, or at least he conveyed as much.

He was flirting with the flame, but he found the occasional taste of danger had become sweet in his time away. He got that from his father, he supposed. He carried on a short distance at the same even pace, ever alert for the thud of paws behind him, before stopping and going through the motions of inspecting a plain, ordinary bush. Again, his ears flicked toward his rear, where he thought his pursuer might be lurking. If they pursued at all. Almost mockingly, he gave a wide sweep of his tail before issuing a hugely exaggerated yawn.

Part of him knew he was being stupid. What if whoever watched him was stronger than he? Only one way to find out, and it had been much too long since something exciting happened.
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Though the evidence mounted that she was being tempted into confrontation, Scorpion seemed unable to conclude that it was time to abandon her pursuit of the stark and wily wolf. For she could not see his deliberateness for what it truly was — not when her eyes could focus only on the audacity of it all. His seemingly incurious behavior stoking a jealous firepit in the girl’s belly.

How was that bush a more interesting thing to smell than her? Her thoughts raged stormily and spewed vitriol, poisoning her into making the dangerous choice to confront him; the desperate, needy thing that she was.

Good or bad, she craved interaction.

Scorpion sidled closer, rounding through the grasses until she was coming towards him, from the opposite end of his preferred bush. It didn’t matter if he saw her now — she wanted him to — and with the shrubbery acting as a buffer between them, she peered up at his dark, half-hidden shape through the thinly leafed branches. With a spearing look, she accused him, You messed up my trap.