 There is something alluring about the night when the moon is covered in clouds and it is pitch black. Within those hours of darkness anything is possible. Heck, anything is probable. She had stolen away from Iromar today on another attempt to seduce back to Iromar another member - and not in the sexual way. The last thing she needed was to be harassed by some male. That had happened once and her sole piece of innocence - as she hadn't much else of it - was stolen away by means of force. Then she had become not only a 'grown' female, she had become a killer. As she stands in the chilled night air, for spring hadn't yet fully taken hold of the world, she is taken back into memories of that time. Memories of the way his jaws had clamped down on the muscles of her neck and pressed her face into the dirt. The way she had snarled and spit like a corner cat while he had climbed atop of her with brute force, but only because he had surprised her. If taken head on there would be no way out of the trap of her broad jaws. Aithne was by no means a small, docile female. Muscles of intense power lined her chest, neck, shoulders and thighs. She was broad and stout and her jaws were wide with a crushing force that could go on forever. She did not partake in the world as some females were expected to (as it seemed many of Iromar expected them to), for she would not be intimidated by a male nor by any assailant. It seemed that Andras respected her for this, though he had pissed right at her feet that first day. To be honest if one drop of his foul odor had touched her white paw the pair would have been locked in a battle that only death would prevail - which one, who knew. Just because he was an Alpha did not mean he would be the decided victor, for Aithne would not bow out of the savagery of such an attack. Scars were meaningless, though she did rather like her pelt. In the darkness the only thing that stands out on her is the white patch on her chest and the one white paw. The dark emerald of her eyes cannot be distinguished from the raven fur that claims the rest of her body and the russet that lines the backs of her ears down to her thighs is well blended. Only in the morning could one see the red ring around on pupil, a result from a childhood accident. It is while she stands so taken in her memories that a sudden flurry of noise disrupts the silent night air. The sound of snarls reverberate against the rocky hills and her ears flick around to find which direction the source is coming from. It is slightly difficult with the way noise bounces but she heads up the hills from which she assumes it comes from, her paws rapid over the stones and sure despite how dark it is. Has Malikye finally given into the lust for blood that so consumes him? Would she stop him if he were now assault some stray wolf in an attempt to eat his body? It would be a disgusting sight, and she knew not what she would do, but she does not find Malikye this night. Instead she comes upon another wolf growling and snarling and saying something she can't quite catch. It would be wise to turn around and leave off the male. Wise, but not something she can do, for she is secretly attracted to such madness - that can be the only reason she stands there before finally interrupting him. "Are you daft?" Her voice is husky and sounds somewhat hoarse; there is no scorn, only polite, as if everyday she has found one such as him. A I T H N E Fallen for the fear and done some disappearing; bow down to the mighty _______________________ |