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He waited for her, between the spires of pine and brush, the thick waving of springferns and the cold dampness of earth. Four paws held fast to the world, for they would be faster than the preferable two - As fast as the wind, she who teased his dark hair and sharp wit.
The woman, the one he waited for, was darker still - She had been kissed by the nighttime, a lover to the midnight hours. As he thought of her, the Hunter's blood ran hot and fast. Dawn caressed a pale sky, and with tenderness had begun to unfurl the baited sun; But they had time, time of shadows and darkness yet, time to slip away into the plans that they had made.
Impatiently, he scented the air, and the chemical lime of his eyes glowed acid and mineral as only the eyes of a Wolf truly can. Large ears were stiff, pressed forward to catch the sounds of paws that would herald the coming of the night-mistress. She irked him with her lateness, but secrecy was prudent, and the calculative one could only remain cloaked in the forest's folds. They had met on this spot before, many a time, in the harmless hunting trips that had born real fruit from the flesh of two hungry minds.
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