It was happening again. The writhing feeling of something gripping her gut and ravaging it with a knife. Hunger. This terrible curse upon her body. The thing that drove her to kill over and over again. Life was hell. Pain. Suffering. Life was self loathing, for your own body is your own enemy. White paws walk with a deadly grace, dirtied by her lack of particular cleanliness. This area was a swamp land, and Flare wasn't one to be careful about dirt and mud. She did what was needed to survive. She needed to live because her body and instinct told her to, and she was not about to deny it.

The girl of white was not purely so. She was tainted with marks like a burning forest. The back of her neck was a russet color, with flashes of black and grey. Like burning embers. All about her fur were dashes of each of those colors, as if they were caught gently in the wind. She was tall and lanky, a beauty in many regards, but her face was not one of looks. Flare held a harsh face. A face of a life hard. A smile has never touched her black lips, being a social cue she never learned. Her flame-kissed eyes were lined in a thick inky black fur, that made her eyes stand out as she walked ever so slowly through the swamp.

Flare was on a mission. She was out to rid herself of this pain in her belly. A pain that will always come back, but a pain she can get rid of for a time. Her black nares taste the cold wind, her attention to each little variation in scent heightened by her desire to eat flesh. She had to satisfy her urges. She had failed to catch anything in days, and the pain in her belly was only increasing. It was screaming at her to kill. The swamp held many little creatures, and the smell was thick of many scents. Flare had gotten used to them, and detecting other scents that were different. Some, choose not to listen carefully to their noses. Flare had no choice. She was programmed to be on edge when her belly demanded it. With a twitch of her head, the lithe female caught wind of another creature. This creature was Alana. This creature was her next meal, for she happened to be the first unfortunate creature to catch her attention. It was nothing personal, nor not a particular taste for wolf flesh. This was all about survival, plain and simple.

After catching the scent of Alana, Flare moved with great precision. She did not rush or run. She kept a steady pace. One where her eyes could keep track for any movements between the trees and foliage. She did not want to be spotted. She was the hunter, and this was no game. Flare kept her head only as high as she needed to keep the scent, with her ears constantly moving to keep track of sounds. Eventually, a glimmer of hope moved in the far distance. She had found the site of the back end of her prey. Flare paused before her long limbs took her step by step behind trees. She was careful to keep her form hidden, only exposing herself for a few second to get next to her new hiding spot. She was closer, so much closer that Alana's scent felt like it was choking her, and Flare had to resist the urge to catch her breath.

It was too much to handle. The scent was so tantalizing, and the wolf seemed to be wandering aimlessly. She was the perfect prey. Smaller than herself. Flare knew she could kill the female. She knew she could get her to expose her throat so Flare can squeeze the life out of her. Flare lived off the life blood of others, and she was not afraid of her true nature. Flare kept watch with her muscles tensing, wiggling slightly before she suddenly made a mad dash towards the girl. She would remain as silent as possible, although the fall caused many leaves to litter the ground. There was no way to avoid them all. Flare would give chase with her long, elegant legs, and she would not stop until she was in range.

Once she was in biting range, Flare would try to leap upon the smaller girl's back from behind. Flare would try to have her front limbs wrap around Alana's shoulders, and then she would open her jaws. Her hungry, desperate jaws. She would try to clamp down on the back of her neck and then fall to Alana's side, hopefully pulling the girl off of her feet.

Hunger. It is the root of all evil.