04-30-2009, 07:48 PM
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500+
Within the woad warrior’s throat rumbled a continuous growl. It was a warning. Briefly her gaze flickered to the pup that had been thrown aside, but her attention was ultimately with the yellow eyed predator before her. The she wolf was not pleased. She believed that she had made it clear enough to the male that he was to stay away from the pups of Dahlia de Mai. In return she had offered friendship, guaranteeing that she would not attack him again. Perhaps it had been her own mistake to believe that words would suffice. She had known him keenly upon there last meeting for she had mated with the male, a desire that had been induced by both her curiosity and the excitement of the hunt. But such a thing shared would not stop the woman from attack him, even killing him if it came down to it; she would not kill him if it were necessary for she knew that the male could not help it. But in the end, the warrior knew that there would be a fight, that he would no longer trust her and that that trust would not be able to regained.
And then his posture changed. It was a subtle change, but the warrior knew how to read the silent language of the wolves. For a moment, she grew silent, surprised by that sudden change. She could feel it in the air like the heat of fire that seemed to emanate from that body. It was this that had drawn her to him—she could not help but feel that intrigue now. But the warrior knew what this meant. She had taken what had been perceived as food and she had challenged him for it. He would kill her. It was the basic instincts of survival. The she wolf had known such a thing all too well upon her travels in the arctic, and his posture invoked that primal instinct within her. The fae exhaled softly; it was strangely exhilarating to watch the natural creature. And there was a quiet resolve within the warrior. She was ready to die; she lived with Death upon her heels and she was ready to make the sacrifice of life should it be required. But she paused, the power of the creature’s subtle change making an impact upon the woman. She would have been content to back off if he would allow her to take the pup with her.
But that would not have been allowed. And suddenly the small pup was running by, charging the predator as it yelled something in a language she did not recognize but had heard before. "No—!" The female swore and suddenly she was moving. As a female, she had within her those maternal instincts (regardless of her lack of compassion for the small, disrespectful pups) and she felt them rising within her now. Her own safety mattered very little in that moment. Cwmfen sought to reach the pup before the jaws of the yellow eyed male found her first, and she was swift. With a surprising gentleness that spoke of her control, the jaws of Cwmfen snatched the small pup and flung her out of reach of immediate danger. But by doing so she had placed herself in a dangerous place, for now her body was twisted and so near to the male that he would no doubt have attacked her.
500+
Within the woad warrior’s throat rumbled a continuous growl. It was a warning. Briefly her gaze flickered to the pup that had been thrown aside, but her attention was ultimately with the yellow eyed predator before her. The she wolf was not pleased. She believed that she had made it clear enough to the male that he was to stay away from the pups of Dahlia de Mai. In return she had offered friendship, guaranteeing that she would not attack him again. Perhaps it had been her own mistake to believe that words would suffice. She had known him keenly upon there last meeting for she had mated with the male, a desire that had been induced by both her curiosity and the excitement of the hunt. But such a thing shared would not stop the woman from attack him, even killing him if it came down to it; she would not kill him if it were necessary for she knew that the male could not help it. But in the end, the warrior knew that there would be a fight, that he would no longer trust her and that that trust would not be able to regained.
And then his posture changed. It was a subtle change, but the warrior knew how to read the silent language of the wolves. For a moment, she grew silent, surprised by that sudden change. She could feel it in the air like the heat of fire that seemed to emanate from that body. It was this that had drawn her to him—she could not help but feel that intrigue now. But the warrior knew what this meant. She had taken what had been perceived as food and she had challenged him for it. He would kill her. It was the basic instincts of survival. The she wolf had known such a thing all too well upon her travels in the arctic, and his posture invoked that primal instinct within her. The fae exhaled softly; it was strangely exhilarating to watch the natural creature. And there was a quiet resolve within the warrior. She was ready to die; she lived with Death upon her heels and she was ready to make the sacrifice of life should it be required. But she paused, the power of the creature’s subtle change making an impact upon the woman. She would have been content to back off if he would allow her to take the pup with her.
But that would not have been allowed. And suddenly the small pup was running by, charging the predator as it yelled something in a language she did not recognize but had heard before. "No—!" The female swore and suddenly she was moving. As a female, she had within her those maternal instincts (regardless of her lack of compassion for the small, disrespectful pups) and she felt them rising within her now. Her own safety mattered very little in that moment. Cwmfen sought to reach the pup before the jaws of the yellow eyed male found her first, and she was swift. With a surprising gentleness that spoke of her control, the jaws of Cwmfen snatched the small pup and flung her out of reach of immediate danger. But by doing so she had placed herself in a dangerous place, for now her body was twisted and so near to the male that he would no doubt have attacked her.