Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow
CREVAN
This ought to be good he thinks to himself, watching Sabrina’s tail flick in excitement. She’d already more or less admitted to being constantly bored at home and Crevan had heard all he needed to hear in order to satisfy his curiosity. Without giving too much of his past away, he’d easily convinced Sinner’s daughter (self-proclaimed heir of Sylva) to abandon reason and join up with an older wolf. “Fantastic!” He laughs, moving quickly to stand. For a beast so large one might think he’d be slow on his feet, but Crevan had always been full of surprises. He snarled playfully to Sabrina and pounced over the flayed, half-eaten carcass of the deer.
“How good are you at blocking an attack?” He grumbled, landing on the other side. The wolf’s tan and cream face was alert and bright, his dark eyes shining in the slanting sun overhead. They both reeked of death and blood. It painted their mouths and stained their chests, giving anyone who paused to look at them reason enough to quickly turn around and run away. The Meadow, however, shielded them from prying eyes behind curtains of soft, waving grasses.
The elder wolf gave her time to reply and then without warning, he leapt forward in a snarling lunge.
If Sabrina tried, it would be easy to hit between his forelimbs, both spread apart with claws at the ready. Or she could drop down and hope to strike at his belly from beneath when he landed on top of her. Risky, but in the right situation fatal. Crevan himself wasn’t aiming to tear her skin or mortally wound her; he was simply rough housing the way their kind did when determining levels of dominance. Even if Sabrina reacted too strongly she could hardly make him suffer.
Crevan was no ordinary wolf.
He could hold his own against her demonic kind.
@[Sabrina]