Silvertip Mountain small lives small lives small lives

after the cat came chakliux.
and his head was turned by the compelling fragrance upon the wind. he stalked after the woman like a hunter, but found no wolf.
chakliux had not yet seen a coyote.
she was small. wounded. scarred. and burning with a fire that scorched him and brought him willingly closer, albeit with careful steps.
"what are you?" he asked, brightberry eyes eyeing the tail, the lacerations, and finally the flare of her gaze.