Oh ... You thought?

The den loomed ahead like a gaping maw, its shadows swallowing the last of the evening light as Ravana and her brothers crept closer, each step a silent muffled sound on the frostbitten ground. She felt a twinge of pleasure in the chill that prickled through her fur; the feeling of being alive and ready for anything. With Mother away on her hunt, it was their turn to test their instincts—and the task was a simple one; get back to the den and make sure nothing was amiss for dinner.

Ravana’s gaze darted to Xairo, his intense focus painted across his face, golden eyes narrowed as he probed the shadows around them. Always careful, ever the watcher, she mused, a sly grin tugging at the corner of her lips. Then she turned her attention to Zagan, his unease about the foreign surroundings. She knew without a word that they all shared the same distrust of the quiet.

The rancid stench hit her in a thick wave as they neared the entrance, a rotting odor that tasted of sickness and decay, and she let it fill her senses, ignoring the revulsion that pooled in her gut, Ravana’s lips twitched into a smirk, mirroring the thrill that bubbled within her. She forced herself to remain outwardly composed, though her thoughts churned with anticipation. Whatever had decided to crawl into their den was likely a pathetic, broken thing… something she could take her time with.

Then they moved, rushing in, their presence flooding the cramped space with swiftness. And there it was—a lone wolf, gaunt and skeletal, barely a scrap of fur clinging to his diseased frame. Festering wounds marred his body, and his eyes—one dull, one a feverish gleam—glared back at them, as if daring them to approach. That wasn’t very nice.

Ravana’s lip curled into a sneer, her dagger-like teeth glinting in the half-light. She felt a delicious wave of contempt rise within her, the stark disgust mingling with satisfaction as she took in his pitiful form. “The stench of this mutt will never come out of the bedding.” she hissed, her voice a low, venomous drawl as she cast a glance at her brothers. A part of her wondered, half in fascination, half in horror, what Mother would say upon her return, finding this wretched parasite defiling their space. She could already picture her disapproving gaze, the subtle frown that would crease her face as she looked to her children to deal with it. A test, maybe. But part of her also wondered if it had been The Sultan here instead, how delightful this could be. She longed for another test of his.

wc; 443 words
ravana