when i run through the deep dark forest long after this has begun,
The deep brown of the wolf’s eyes stare unwaveringly into the foal before her, the soft pink color of her tongue running over black-lined lips. Part of her allows the wolf to stalk forward, prowling eagerly towards the midnight and ivory filly, a rumbling in her chest and stomach fueling each softly-padded step. She had yet to hunt for herself, and though she had exposed herself from the deep darkness of the treeline, she suddenly finds the primal urge to sink her teeth into the soft and supple skin of the dancing filly’s throat, to paint the dark sand beneath their feet with sticky, bright red blood.
But part of her - the other part, the one that is equine and curious and young - refrains from this action for a moment longer. Driven by fear yet coupled with the intense need for interactions with others, the storm-grey wolf is stuck in between, hovering undeniably between both hunting and inviting the stranger back into the shelter of the tropical forest, to run beneath the shadows and chase the birds that live within the jungle. Her head lowers curiously, especially when the filly seems to leap into a different position, one that causes the wolf’s ears to flick cautiously back and forth.
Dayé’s slender snout lifts carefully, sniffing before allowing a sharp snort to escape the darkness of her nostrils. The display is somehow familiar, despite the curious way the position appears on that of a young filly. For a moment the wolf merely watches her with cunningly sharp eyes, frozen beneath the intense heat of the sun. Then, something seems to click, and cautiously the wolf’s forelegs splay before her, her pale rump in the air to mimic the navy and alabaster filly.
Her darker-tipped tail sways cautiously behind her in a slow manner, lips rippling as a muffled bark escapes her mouth.
Dayé
where the sun would set, trees are dead, and the rivers were none.
@[Sibyl]