It had only been a mere and brief conversation, but something about the male had stuck in my mind. Often my subconscious would wave he and the white male – the one with that gorgeous blue gaze – in front of my eyes, forcing me to choose which I wanted. Unable to do so, they faded, leaving a faded wolf-like shape before my eyes. He was dark, mysterious (if only because I was unable to make out his features) and stirred something I didn't think I even owned within my very core. I wanted this, to find the face of the unknown wolf, to know at least who he was. Curiosity always fueled these dreams, and as I would be upon the cusp of unmasking this wolf, I would be jolted to awareness. My thoughts would swerve wildly to the forefront of my mind and cut a whirlwind path to the back of my mind, fading like the rest of my dreams into oblivion. He would return to my thoughts, then by sudden coincidence, so did the wasted winter. No doubt I am grateful for the lack of extra lives to sustain, they would be a liability. I could not afford such things, I am far too dangerous a female to have whelps to raise, presently. Perhaps, in the future, I will be able to create more lives.

The clock is ticking, I know, but I need to do things first. Suddenly, I find that I inhale that masculine cologne, a deep thrum of my throat gave away the pleasure I felt in his company, just as I heard the growl echo from his own vocals. I grin, contrasting corners of my sinful mouth pull back to reveal bloodstained teeth. It was then that my reflective gaze noticed just where we happened to meet, the woods suddenly close to my glorious form, and I let a bit of humor cross my mind. Then it hit me, the smell of that blood on his mouth bringing a hungry growl from me as I turn, hunger ordering me to mock charge him, the open cuts of my paw showing, a layer of skin missing from my chest, fangs bared as I snarl and show him I mean what I say. I regain myself with a sharp raise of my skull, one glorious tower of white turning back as he speaks, letting the social graces I have been taught to grace my vocals, making them like poisoned honey. “I had to find some way to pass the winter.” I lay my eyes upon the fawn as he cracks the bones of a potential meal, his muzzle and the young deer showing in the bright lenses of my irises.

I have become accustomed to the pain of my toes, the broken tendon and bone showing, though I have been working on the bones, shifting them back into place as they should go, having long since learned the way my paws should look, as they do on other's paws. The meat of my shoulder is available for sight, the bleeding having long since stopped, though it still pained ever step with an irritation that I have not matched in ages. “Most fun I've had since coming here. What about you...Artimus?” I speak his name at a pause, wanting to show how much I remember, throwing it in his face. I am a hard character to forget, and really who would want to?