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*Rita* · 04-07-2013, 12:32 PM

Sunlight trickled down the vast canopies of the forests, sprinkling the grounds below with varied particles of light. It was a rather glorious mid-afternoon, with the scarce amount of clouds that hovered in the stratosphere and the excess warmth the sun offered its dear earth. Miniature mushrooms stretched up from their roots on the tree trunks, their hoods curling up higher than their counterparts - a race to the sun. Other vines, weeds, and shrubbery followed suit, each of them struggling against their neighbors to kiss the sunlight that radiated just past the treetops. Such was the way of life in the wilderness, survival of the fittest and swiftest. So it had always been, and so it will always be.

The female would make sure of it.

Her golden eyes shimmered brilliantly each time the sun bore down upon her through the cracks in the canopy. The air around her reeked of confidence, of dominance, and she made it so. Ahead she stared, eyebrows arched and pupils narrowed as she sent her focus to the path she prematurely planned. Each step became predetermined, strategically planned a minute in advance, so that she could divert her attention into exuding an extremely suave aura about her. With her cheshire grin plastered wide on her maw, shiny whites shimmering in a welcoming display for the curious, Rita bounced onwards, each leg seeming to dance to its own beat. Her stride appeared to have a skip to it, her carelessness and excitement obvious.

She wore herself down with no worries.  

The she-wolf was, after all, a creature of little concern for others.

And when you only thought about yourself, it was relatively easy to keep stress levels down to a minimum. Her ears swiveled, eyes casting wary glances to her left and then to her right, peering down the confines of the forest. Maybe she was looking for potential victims of her womanly charms, or perhaps just keeping an eye out for prospective dangers. Either way she kept her senses on high alert, though they all appeared to be at ease. After all, the wench would rarely grant the elusive predator the satisfaction of knowing their targets were on edge. That would be going against her nature. Because Rita was always the elusive predator, never the target.

Humming to herself under her breath, she continued her eased stride further along the territory, rubbing herself up against random trees as though to mark them as her own. As though laying down some territorial markers. She was a rogue nearing a pack?s borders; one might consider her actions to be highly unacceptable. A small scoff and she?d chuckle that thought away ? since when was Rita so concerned about abiding to society?s expectations of what was ?standard?? Heavy paws treaded on the moist terrain with elegant confidence, the fluidity of her movements flawless. A grin, so suave and simple, spread gently across her blue-scaled maw. Raising an eyebrow, she turned to her side, looking. No one. And then she turned to her other side, once again finding no subject. A soft 'hmph' escaped her maw, and she shrugged her shoulders in a graceful, rolling motion. Her scruffy tail flickered behind her, giving her the visual appearance of a soft, bouncing stride. Yet it was only an illusion, an attempt to capture the attention of any whose gaze rested upon her figure. Let them come forward now, here. As far as she knew, and for as much as she cared, the mutt could walk further into this territory without any second thoughts. The wavering scent of the past owners grew fainter and fainter with each passing breeze, and so she came to the conclusion that others would, undoubtedly, come to soon enough.

Inhaling deeply, the female smiled as she came to a slow stop, her tail curling behind her torso as she examined her surroundings. She could pick up on the scents that simply screamed of another pack?s presence, not too far away, but she could see no one. How dreary, indeed. Shaking her pelt free, she let loose a wide yawn as she backed up a few steps to her eight o?clock, brushing up against some shrubs as she used their protruding branches to scratch at her hips. Feeling satisfied, she lowered herself to the ground, intending to take a long nap to celebrate her virtual invasion of this pack. With no one to stop her, no one so much as patrolling their treasured borders, she felt they may as well have deserved it.

"Who is there? And state your reason of being here."

Peeking one eye open, an annoyed scowl spreading across her maw, she grumbled underneath her breath. Great, just as her mind was beginning to relax. Groaning as she stretched her forelegs out, she smacked her tongue over her lips as she hoisted herself onto all fours. The voice seemed to stem from behind the shrubbery she?d dubbed her resting spot. Shrugging and rolling her shoulders, Rita set her mode to smooth and suave, duly noting that the voice had been, in fact, male. That sent a little shiver down her spine, her grin widening before she made it disappear. 

Let the games begin.

Breaking through the confines of the plants, branches, and leaves, Rita slithered forward with her head held even with her shoulders, exhibiting a fair amount of submissive behavior. Let him believe she means no harm. Her eyes widened, brows furrowed in an apologetic look, the softest of frowns etched onto her maw. Keeping her tail low, though not tucked ? she?d never reduce herself that low ? she took a few meek steps forward. Peering up at the male, she stopped just as soon as she?d started, standing uneasily.
A broken whine slurred, her voice poking through, ?I- I?m sorry, sir. I?ve been lost fer days, trying to find my way back ta the swamps. Been quite hungry, y?see, didn?t mean ta bug ya?? She took another step or two forward, easing up to the side of the male, her eyes never breaking the charming facade as she stared into his, a tender smile slowly peeking onto her muzzle. She dipped her head towards him before approaching another step, this time nuzzling her nose gently into the side of his scruff, taking in his scent and recognizing him as one of the pack she'd noticed earlier.

"I never 'spected ta run into one of you..." Leaning in, she pushed her muzzle further down his nape, stretching down towards his shoulders. Her cold nose against his warm, soft fur. Tender, gentle, and loving... "A pack...?" Of course he was in one, and it'd be his chance to be a Knight in Shining Armor, rescuing a poor damsel in distress. Poor bastard would never realize that this damsel was a beast amongst the sheep, blending in as perfectly as a needle in the haystack. Softly leaning in towards the male, she?d subserviently duck her hind legs into a sitting position, placing herself in front of him, head tucked forward and into his neck. Seeking comfort, answers, reassurance.

The reassurance that everything was working according to plan.

Lifting her head up, she?d turn and look over to him wide, eyes pleading for a response. Verbal, physical, anything. ?My name?s Rita, deary, and yours?? She?d break the remaining boundaries that might allow him to separate himself from her, she?d take away every reason not to trust her. Once those barriers were demolished, obliterated, the Femme Fatale would work in a shy grin, ears flattening themselves back against her cranium. Please, pretty please mister, won?t you rescue me from these feigned flames of hell? Carry me off into the sunset on your chariot while I dismantle the reigns and the wheels.

Sighing deeply, she?d turn and look around her, noting how everything looked the same as it had on her way in. The same thick forests, bountiful greens, and little critters scurrying across all around her. Songbirds whistled their tunes, squirrels hurried about their scavenging, and insects buzzed their heart and soul out. ?So, what is this place here? Your home?? She?d want him to talk, to give him something to brag about. Let him teach her something; let him feel important, smart, more intelligent than she. Not that he was, by any means, but it would help her predicament. If she could give him the impression that she needed him more than he needed her, he would have much less of a reason to distrust her. Build up that trust and you?d have ammunition to tear it down again. Rita was one that always found herself locked and loaded, stocked with ammo for disposal at her desire. A femme fatale in every sense of the title, a wench in ever definition of the word.

Unacceptable by society?s standards, desired by all males, and unobtainable by all hearts. She was, as far as she was concerned, indestructible. And, as far as this unknown male was concerned, she was lost and desperate for some hero?s aid.

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