Fritjof forgets his past, forgets the present. Muscles bunch underneath the thick fur coat winter has given him, fast and reactive, a wolf strong, in his prime, despite his small stature. There is his heart beating, his breath comes fast and deep fogging the air as he runs, his paws pound frozen dirt, claws lending purchase. Who knew he could feel this young and free again? His ears are forward, tracking her progress in front of him, with a keen sense of yearning. Lust is a powerful motivator.
He zooms after, lost in the chase, seeing her almost as if she was prey, albeit a different kind of prey. The kind that taunts, encourages and leads him on. He is pulling level with her now, entwining his feet with hers, wrapping his neck over hers to gently grab her scruff and pull her to a stop, sending them both tumbling.
He grins and licks her face, pawing her shoulder. Then an urgency and longing overtakes him. He wants her more than anything else in life, even food, even ambition. She is his one in this moment. Fritjof licks her ear, lost in the moment of the victory and the pretty prize. |