05-05-2018, 07:40 AM
The shadows of the trees slipped from her coat like an evening cloak, leaving her glistening in the moonlight. Against the night, the white patches of her coat laid her bare, but she was comfortable in her solitude and in the peaceful, rhythmic churning of the rushing water, a maiden out to bathe in the lonely evening. She had only time to take in a deep breath of the air, attempting to soothe her nerves, when the creature came from seemingly nowhere. For a moment, she startled, before becoming transfixed on this bird of prey at its talents. It was so near her, so unafraid (or unaware?) of her presence, wholly engrossed within its meal. Some part of her made note at how readily she watched the gruesome display, accompanied by a sarcastic internal chuckle at the circumstances that had probably made her this way. She breathed deeply, readily taking in that familiar, metallic aroma, fascination far outweighing a whisper of revulsion. She took a few tentative steps closer, not wanting to disturb the creature, but drawn to the carnage nearly irresistibly.
For how long she watched the thing, she couldn’t say. She had so easily pushed aside the conclusion of her dream, though it nagged sullenly from a corner of her mind; instead, she watched the predator rent flesh from bone and she could feel it tearing, as if she was the one pulling at still-warm muscles. It sickened her, it frightened her, but far stronger than those feelings, it excited her. She was paralyzed from the moment the creature looked up, staring back into those nearly reptile-like avian eyes, left breathless and awestruck and considering herself terribly lucky to have witnessed such a wild thing. Softly, audibly, she gasped as it churred at her, as if it appreciated an audience for its evening meal. Such an unusual outcome- only a moment before, she’d still been afraid to frighten the bird off from its evening meal.
This, of course, did not prepare her in the slightest for what happened next.
The spotted mare took a step backward as he transformed, acutely aware of her heart skipping a beat entirely before slamming against her ribcage as if yearning for escape. He was stunning in the autumn air, a fairytale come to life, gleaming copper coat forming stunning contrast with white hair and skin of his talons. When he spoke, she heard a symphony of happier times, all the songs of the wild birds that formed the soundtrack of her freedom. She couldn’t resist the smile that made itself onto her face, bourn partially of shock and partially of pure fascination. This night- this being- was a dream come to life, and Traton wasn’t foolish enough to resist a call she’d been waiting a lifetime to hear.
“Hello,” she replied, and the greeting that sounded so timid in her head came out as a purr, svelte and inviting. She didn’t recognize the way that her body moved, but she basked in it, flooded in a world of rising temperature and pleasant anticipation. Somewhere, internally, a voice screamed for her to stop; but she was never one to listen to her own advice. And to her credit, who could in situations like this? He was magic in the flesh, an incredible melding of hunter and prey, beautiful and terrible and stunning in the same breath. He could tear her apart as he’d done the little rabbit, and she’d be just as helpless- but all the more willing.
As he spoke again, she was lost again in the sound of his voice, somehow coaxed into this unfamiliar world with a smile and a song. “I’m not much of a hunter myself, but it’s certainly… lovely,” she smiled again as she spoke, expressing the sentence in the same soft, alluring tones that had surprised her a moment before. Consciously, she may have had little idea of what to do in these situations, but somehow the bizarre nature of this one- the intimacy, the magic, the music- left the normal world behind, and with it, the awkward mare that she normally embodied.
She closed a step of the distance carefully, inhaling deeply, pulling the scent of blood and of him far into her lungs. She paused with her muzzle only inches from the curve of his beak, still taking in his rich aroma, feeling as if all the world around them could crashing down and she wouldn’t notice a thing but his eyes.
A lovely night for hunting, indeed.
@[Sid] ok I LOVED it