I am your love, I am your desire, I am your nightmare- wrapped up in fire

It is the scent that brings her, the creature of snow and coal and fire, eyes of bloodied red drawn upon the darkness of the forests as she slips from the confines of Glorall and presses deeper into the woodlands. The scent of Phaedra, Sunset Wolf, is near and Riven is drawn to it. She does not understand her company, often does not perceive the words the other utters in revelation towards her, near her and about her and yet it matters not. For as much as Phaedra has become drawn to Riven- so Riven has become drawn to Phaedra. Sunset Wolf brings her sacrifices, lures others to her so she may feed and so assures her value. She is not weak as Riven had first thought, no, no, Sunset Wolf is a creature of cunning mind, one whom lures others into the depths of Riven’s lair and as such she revels within her company, is drawn to her, for where Sunset Wolf goes…food is sure to follow. She does not understand why she is called The True Angel, believes perhaps that this simply may be her true name, for Sunset Wolf believes it so- perhaps it does not matter, names matter so little. She moves with ample grace, form of snowy white and black, splashed here and there with bloodied red to match her black ringed scarlet eyes- glides softly atop the earth in the wake of her companion, seeking her friend’s presence now. For Sunset Wolf alone has managed to befriend the ghost that is Riven, the reclusive creature, the daughter of darkness and demons and fire.

She pauses only once, head lifted at the sound of voices, male voices- as ears lace back against her skull in some sense of irritation, lip pulled back to expose her fangs as the three year old breaks into a lope of sorts, soft and silent atop the earth. She slows only as she approaches, bloodied eyes fixated upon the males that circle Sunset Wolf. She understands the way of males, for never did her parents seek to protect her from the manner of nature and the true instinct of wolf. Within the winter snows the males seek females of age, test sometimes even those who are not as surely they do with Phaedra in this moment and yet it is not there persistence that bothers the older female. She has grown…protective pf Phaedra, determined to keep her for herself, does not desire to share and yet perhaps Sunset Wolf merely brings her further gifts this day…blood to be tasted. Shadows part to reveal her form as she steps into the clearing, a rumble within her throat offered in greeting to her companion, the barest of touches given as he shoulder brushes the other females in passing, standing now beside her companion.

Her attention now falls upon the males, her form held tall, head and tail high in dominance, for she is a dominant creature, a young and yet commanding female, one whom will lead when no other leader steps forward and yet here within the lands of the free there is no legitimate leader- none to command her subservience. She will not offer it. Red eyes flick from one male to the other, judging them now. She is a creature of few words, language is distasteful upon her lips and yet in this moment she seems content to offer her words, feminine, lilting, beautiful in themselves- just as she…beautiful and yet so very deadly. Her words for Sunset Wolf alone.

“Are they for Riven?”

Yes. They are a gift surely, a gift for her, perhaps a gift for Flare and Tobias in turn should they prove to be succulent enough. How easily the hunters become the hunted.