07-05-2017, 12:38 PM
Don't be afraid when the night wolves cry,
feast on their bones, suck the marrow dry.
feast on their bones, suck the marrow dry.
The air shivers. In the wasted shadows around them Longclaw can’t be sure of his own vision, so he narrows those bold, burning eyes and watches as fangs become face, hoofprints to hoof. So, the ghost he’d been tracking was no ghost at all - just an invisible girl. There’s the imperceptible downturn of his lips that hints on disappointment (he’d been so ready to unleash a terror of flame) and he snuffs out the tendrils of fire slowly, deceptively allowing peace to settle once more over his features.
He appraises her, like an interested passerby who happened to be drawn in by a window display, but finds that her lack of fear only excites his curiosity. So alone, and so frail at that! Just a creature of adept camouflage with the refuse of forest droppings strewn among the wispy tendrils of her tail and mane. How long this little clouded mare had kept to herself, Longclaw couldn’t be sure; it neither stops him from stirring to meander forward nor does it quell his tongue as he mutters, “I needn’t have asked at all.”
There’s a laziness to his actions as he turns aside from her, passing by her sallow ribcage to glide easily behind her and then around to her opposite side. They stand together now, shoulder to shoulder, while Longclaw outstretches his nose and whuffs greedily at her skin. She gives off a heady sensation that pulls him nearer until his lips are pressed ever so gently against that palatable, golden fur. He draws them upwards, opens his mouth while following the natural curve of her neck, and enjoys the sensation of his teeth as they depress into her pelt. Almost … tender.
“Hiding?” He muses, pushing away from her if only to stop himself, “Or have you been forgotten?”
He appraises her, like an interested passerby who happened to be drawn in by a window display, but finds that her lack of fear only excites his curiosity. So alone, and so frail at that! Just a creature of adept camouflage with the refuse of forest droppings strewn among the wispy tendrils of her tail and mane. How long this little clouded mare had kept to herself, Longclaw couldn’t be sure; it neither stops him from stirring to meander forward nor does it quell his tongue as he mutters, “I needn’t have asked at all.”
There’s a laziness to his actions as he turns aside from her, passing by her sallow ribcage to glide easily behind her and then around to her opposite side. They stand together now, shoulder to shoulder, while Longclaw outstretches his nose and whuffs greedily at her skin. She gives off a heady sensation that pulls him nearer until his lips are pressed ever so gently against that palatable, golden fur. He draws them upwards, opens his mouth while following the natural curve of her neck, and enjoys the sensation of his teeth as they depress into her pelt. Almost … tender.
“Hiding?” He muses, pushing away from her if only to stop himself, “Or have you been forgotten?”
Longclaw
![[Image: sScEgld.png]](http://i.imgur.com/sScEgld.png)