Ouroboros Spine all the days of our delights are poison in my veins

hoping to catch a @Cen >:3

Moondoe, striding.

The high mountains had held prisoners before, before she was born, but this was the first time in her memory they had. The dark wife-beater, hobbled.

She held a cold, small rabbit, likely a day or so old. Maybe it was cruel, but meat was meat. Old Doe dogged her steps, but didn’t say anything. Just made her own smug approval known in an aura.

Vairë knew this was what she wanted. Vairë also knew Old Doe wanted her fiery, wanted her to rage and rage until she was blood splattered. She wrapped her hand around her anger and smothered it.

The dark, yawning maw was ahead of her. She stopped at its mouth, letting no emotion touch her face, before she threw the rabbit into the cave.

Eat.

sharp teeth grabbed the cold little beast, and for a moment only the sound of shredding gristle and breaking bones was heard.

tongue laved crimson from his mouth. he did not approach the entrance to his imprisoning chamber, studying the young woman with the hardness of his slate eyes.

he had learned a little sunshine by now; the caribou hunter knew that her name was vairë, that she was daughter to the white and the red wolves. her scent proclaimed her married and a mother, which put him to bitter mind of red leaf.

"so. when you kill me?" cen asked suddenly, not in caribou, not in the pidgin known by the seal hunters — in sunshine.

Her smile was sharp, bitter. Broken glass pressed into her gums in the shape of teeth.

No hello? A thank you? She sat at the mouth of the den, letting light stream past her and obscure her features besides the glint of her eyes.

You will wish we killed you, caribou man. Doe tipped her head up.

Do you know what I am?

How poetic, this justice.

this time cen did not speak.

his eyes spoke for him, roving over her strong arms and curved hips while his tongue teased a small leg-bone. there was fear in cen, yes, for he did not know these people and what they could do.

his grin spread, spiraling into sickly green corners.

You are caribou hunter.

A laugh pressed against her breastbone, fleeting and ethereal. Old Doe curved her head around to press against Vairë’s cheek.

The grin she wore was all prey, everything to gain and little to lose.

I am Moonglow’s Moondoe. A funny coincidence, I think.

Half lidded eyes, glowing with moonlight in the daytime.