M - they cut me down to size

Talitha de le Poer · 03-18-2011, 02:34 PM

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Lupus → Optime form. Sexy Talitha for the requesting!

Wordcount: 707

The day was growing longer, indicating that spring was coming back to the world. It greatly pleased the russet female known by the moniker of Talitha Lykoi; she had open and clear hatred of all things winter. The white world of the change in year left her bitter. There was no beauty in a world filled with white snow and grey mud. To ruby eyes that sought the wonders of art in natural life, Winter was the season of appaling surroudings. She much prefered the summer heat and colors given to the world under the sunlight that beat down on the backs of her family and vague examples of friends.

Grey colored the world outside of Inferni, but it was more so during the cold season. Instead of stopping to look at what had become of her home since the onset of snow, she hunted. Though his lessons were not daily excursions from real life, Talitha enjoyed what her brother was teaching her; Ezekiel had given her the chance to better herself, and she had expanded on it. She still didn't eat, not nearly enough to appear healthy, but she had become proficient in stocking up on the corpses of small animals; rabbits, hares, lemmings, all stashed in a pile within her small den. She didn't need more, not until she'd made it through what was already there, but she enjoyed the chase and satisfied feeling of the animal's last breath.

That was what had taken her from the borders of Inferni. Quadruped Lykoi, covered in mud from the melting snow, had made her way into the world of the Dampwoods. Crimson eyes passed over skulls, most in the best condition though some were still knocked over from the storm, and the familiar sense of sinking found itself in her chest cavity. Outside of her kingdom, the world was different. She was lost, like a child, and incapable of finding her way to specific landmarks. All she knew was how to return home, and home was not where she needed to be at that moment.

In her patrols of the border, she'd noticed new scents on the wind, more frequent than she'd like to believe. Masculine, familiar. Hearkening back to earlier in the season, it evoked the face of the handsome lone wolfdog she'd found comfort in after her accident. Caillen had been nearby. A painful ache enveloped her lungs at the thought that he may have come to harm due to her own stupid mistake of leaving. She had tried to return, hoping to view the gentle features and receive the same sense of being needed that she lacked in her own home, but each time had been colored with other activities.

Of course, at that moment, there were no other activities. Tinged with mud and searching for a quick kill, the distinct scent of her object of adoration reached her without fail. Stronger than previous, her interest was turned from the hunt; had Caillen returned? Though she was not one to hope, she couldn't help but believe that he was there, that he'd come to see her. It was just as likely he'd forgotten their encounter, or that he wasn't there at all and her insanity had simply fabricated his existence. Ruby eyes sought the handsome male as her path changed, following scents familiar and unfamiliar alike.

At the end of the trail, unkempt and more beautiful than ever, was the prize she'd been hoping for. Caillen. Mud-stained fur morphed about the Lykoi's body as her shape changed, lengthening and moulding into something new. Long limbs carried her forward as she left her four-legged body behind. A crimson gazed watched him warily, but not without desire. There was no smile coloring her features. "It's not safe for you here."

The words weren't threatening, but merely the voice of concern and reason. Inferni was not known for kindness, towards outsiders or wolves alike, and Caillen was both. Still, they were not close enough for him to be a threat, and she hoped that others would leave them be, if only to allow her the chance to spend time with the man. Another cautious step took her ever closer, mind restraining her from the urge to hold him.

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