The devil may cry

following her encounter with the pleasant male mordecai, starling had been in relatively good spirits. there were fox to chase, things to smell, mice to torture.. she had spent the rest of the afternoon happily indulging in these three things -- and when night fell she had sought refuge among the flatland's generous tussocks.

as it was, she was not incredibly shielded by the elements -- it was a balmy enough night that sleeping under the cloudy skies was without its share of unpleasant rain or inclemency. what she did not account for were other things -- things like her.

she awoke quite quickly when she heard someone about. her muzzle snapped up from the frozen grass and she listened, breath held as she scented a male about her. it didn't smell like mordecai, and starling had no interest in chancing a random encounter in the ominous dark of the night.