It is hunger that gives birth to the sinister glowing eyes within the inky depths of her makeshift den. The singular glare piercing any and all unlucky enough to witness it as she beholds the dreary day before her. The soft patter of rain as it assaults the earth paired with the grey somber atmosphere almost guaranteed poor hunting yet she knew fate to be reasonable. Emerging from the tomb as if newly reanimated she dissolves into a stalk, slender legs carrying her svelte chassis with ease into the wooden skeletal graveyard. Winter was dying. The icy blanket that once oppressed all slowly giving way to bursts of verdant foliage, wooden arms stretching far ahead in desperate bid for light. It is within the shadow of the tree’s plight she finds her cover, slithering betwixt the trunks as if she were naught but a ghost.

Silence reigned supreme as she nuzzled an outcropping, inhaling the musky loamy scent of the earth, dissecting each aroma for clues. Birds dared not crow lest they draw the attention of the demon keeper, her aura enough to place them on high alert. Even the miscreates known to play with the underworld hunker down until she passes for she wore snakes as scarves to match the black widow rings. And it is within this stillness that the first whimpers of death reach the ivory vixen. The soft sighs of soaked leaves pull her forward, gushing of forbidden delights should she submit to the blood lust now thumping within her veins. She was not alone.

With the grace of a dancing viper she tracks him, ever cautious of her own serpentine form and any sound it dares make in her pursuit. Yet there is little need as the other makes enough racket to conceal her own hushed paw falls. It would seem that he too was out hunting. What a coincidence that the hunter becomes the hunted. And so she trails, oblivious to the stray droplets as they caress her heated flesh through her soft covering. She hopes to use to rain and it’s stirring up of scents to help her wink in and out of peripherals until the moment is pregnant with tension. The male is primed, a luscious rabbit within his wake, and she coiled like the viper she was. The moment he bursts into action, she too springs forth attempting to grip his front right leg. If her fangs are able to find a purchase then she will bite down savagely, a purring growl growing within her chest before she spins away. If she misses his leg she will attempt to ravage whatever she can before dancing away, her cover sufficiently blown to pieces.

Methodically, as if rehearsed hundreds of times, she falls into a relaxed lope. Circling him over and over without saying a word at first. He was tiny, a scrap of meat and bones that would surely leave her hungry, yet there was something within those swirling optics that captivated her. She wanted those little gems, perhaps she would mount them on some sinew and wear them as diamonds against her throat. A wicked gleam and sinister quirk to her lips are given before she feints a lunge, gauging his reaction. “Come now little rabbit, show me your teeth!”