She is more predator than prey—designed from birth to be one with the darkness and uniquely adept at Anastasia likes many things. She likes the moment when the hunted see that it is being hunted; she likes that fear that floods their eyes—the way their muscles freeze when they should run. She likes the way that the shadows do not wrap around her, but instead sink into her; she likes the feeling of home whenever she is in the cool, cool dark. She likes the feeling of power she wields when her acid slips through her mouth and bites into material not made to sustain it. She likes that feeling of disintegration.
But that is not what she says.
That is not her reply.
Instead, Anastasia leans against Chantale, sighing, enjoying the sensation before she breaks from her. “Wait,” she orders, unaware that some might take offense to the abruptness of it. Opening up a portal, she steps through and appears several yards away, hiding away in the shadows—invisible except for the bright shadow of her yellow eyes. Looking back to Chantale, she nods, before turning her attention to the wolf that was prowling around the edge of the meadow. Large. Beautiful in his own right. Alone.
Anastasia was beautiful too in this moment, stripped clean of societal expectations. She lowers her head and stalks forward, making no sound and leaving no scent. For several steps, she follows the wolf, who was completely unaware of her presence. The kill was quick. Before he could have noticed, she is on top of him, and her teeth are sinking in his neck—but it isn't the sharpness of her incisors that does him in—it is the acid that slips from beneath her tongue and into his veins, eating away his flesh.
Grunting, Anastasia grabs his neck and opens a portal, dragging him through to where she had left Chantale. She pulls him near the other mare and then stands back, looking at her masterpiece. He is still grand, but his fine coat is now damp and matted with blood, his neck dissolving and bubbling from the acid that remained. “This,” she finally replies, black smile too wide. “Ana-sta-sia likes this.”
like the moon, we borrow our light
{I am nothing but a shadow in the night}