Run while there's life left,
Scream 'til there's silence
Silence is golden, some whisper, and who better knows this than the dead-pawed Purge? She smiles as she follows with hushed steps, her pawsteps made near whispers by the nettles upon the earth. The heathen goddess moves to keep her scent from the wolf before her, keeping undetected when the cream and coal lady looked back. Yes, the behemoth knows how to track with a remarkable accuracy and tact, only being seen when she wishes it. It does not take long for the other wolf to find somewhere to hide from Purge, but never has the vehement bitch lost a trail. Those bright pink eyes fix on the hollow of the tree, memorizing the very bark of it. Circling around it, Purge positions herself around the back of the tree, sliding up on the weakest side of her shelter. The dead paw not making a sound as the beast puts it down on the forest floor, she has an odd grace about her now, a feral female who would overcome any and all weakness.
Sitting her pearl and coal self down, the violent beauty is given to gaze out at the terrain. It was quite windy today, and the plush silken coat of Purge billowed softly and playfully, teased by the delicate fingers of fall. "Come out, come out, where ever you are...I have something to speak to you about and wish to look at you as I spout it off." It is rare that Purge meets a face of interest, a wolf to hold her attention for more than a few hours. Isola, however, now she was a different story, thus far her and her mate were proving to be good chew toys. She hadn't seen the male Artimus or Eric in quite some time, and Ruvindra was as always just a few steps into the swamp. I wish to know this lace and leather female. So come out and speak to her, if you dare...
vixen || of no where || nine years || no bars || no chains || no shackles