I'm still yearning for your touch

She hadn't seen her brother for a few weeks, ever since their last fight. He had stormed off, thoroughly pissed that she had stolen that little red bitch out from under him. She didn't mind, he had stayed out of her way, allowing her to do as she pleased. She had enjoyed herself, finding herself in the company of that pallid brute, along with a pup as well. Today she sought solitude. She had found her way to some cliffs that overlooked the ocean. It was a gorgeous sight. The edge dropped straight down, plummeting to a narrow beach that gave way to merciless ocean waves. Leading up to the cliff was an endless field of soft grass that was beginning to grow back, and flowers slowly starting to bloom. All the small details of beauty went unnoticed. The evening sun had set, taking away the rays that had warmed her bodice. Eyes remained shut, dozing to the sound of distant waves. She lay curled several feet from the cliffs edge, anyone foolish enough to sneak up on the dozing woman would be tossed over the edge to fall to their death.

The temperature slowly began to drop, the moon rising higher, bathing everything in its eery glow, including herself. The moonlight turned her pelt nearly while as it danced across her. Her minor wounds had healed, disappearing into practically nothing, covered once more by a thick pelt. Breathing was slow and steady, a gentle rise of her chest. Her massive frame had flattened the grass she resided in, leaving her in a makeshift bed. The salty breeze teased her nose.

It was scene of perfect serenity. Until one looked at the whole picture. A fallen doe lay nearby. Torn to shreds, her blood staining the grass. The animals blood still stained her muzzle, spattered along her chest and paws. The crimson liquid contrasted her light pelt, staining it red. She hadn't yet eaten, only wanting to fulfill her desire to kill, to feel the life draining from another, to have their blood flooding her mouth. But it wasn't the same as killing another wolf. There was no fight, only desperation to get away, there was no will to become the victor. There was no begging for mercy, hearing their cries as she merciless tore into them. There was no fun.

"Talk Like This" Think Like This