Blood covered her muzzle. She was a sight to be feared. She already had features that gave her a menacing look- her eyes were rimmed in a thick black against her face visage. Flares of red, black, and grey covered her back, and really, the blood did not look so out of place. The female stepped into Asteraia. The grass is weighed down with that of snow. Her mouth was not empty- and blood dripped upon the white ground as she traveled deeper into her home land.
Her muzzle, though bloody, held a body of something russet and black, with what was once white. It was the remains of a young fox. The neck was ripped out, and much of the innards already devoured. Legs dragged lifelessly against the snow. It was a kill being brought back to the den that she shared with the dark ones. Well, she will not leave it within the den. As she strides over, her lava pools scan for any signs of life or threats. It is only then that her pace slow, and she drops the carcass at her feet.
She licks her muzzle, cleaning the blood off only slightly as her haunches lower into the white fluff. Her fur was thick, and she did not feel too cold as she let her gaze stare out to the beyond. There were only a few wispy white clouds in the otherwise blue sky. She felt comfortable that there was currently no instability in the sky- but there was an inner turmoil. An itch to satisfy something within herself. Her belly may be full after her rage filled kill, but her hormones still rage with the touch of winter.
She feels her tail wrap one way and then another as she shifts her weight. She whines slightly as she looks back down at the kill. Why did it not satisfy her? Why does she still feel...something? Her eyes gaze down, blaze down in fact, at the smaller fox carcass. She suddenly bolts her jaws down, biting down on a leg bone fiercely.
She proceeds to...chew out her frustrations. She proceeded to lay her more delicate form into the white snow. She held the main body down, with the black leg sticking up between her own legs and by her chest. Her jaws clamp on and off on the leg, crunching on bone and ripping off skin and fur. She does not eat any of the meat- she leaves it for when she or others may be hungry. But she cannot rid herself of this other feeling... the feeling that only comes in winter, and she only knows to chew out her frustrations near the den, under the bright blue sky.