fenrir


No sooner had he asked the question, than a nicker broke whatever short silence had managed to fall. Those intense green eyes ripped away from the colt, settling instead on a dark yet tawny figure that slipped between the pines. He exhaled slowly as she prowled, hooves planted like the trees that surrounded them, unwilling to give her any ground. He drew his head closer to his chest, showing off the muscle – not just to show he was capable of fighting, but also to impress her. His eyes remained hard yet curious.

The mare spoke and his ears perked with interest. ”Naturally” he echoed, no louder than a whisper – a small smirk subtly tugging the corner of his lips.

The spotted colt moved closer to Menkhet and a possessive knot tightened in his belly; both that the colt should be near the mare, but also that the mare should be taking the colt from him. His mouth tightened like the knot, but there was little he could do to remedy one without damaging the other. Alternatively, he offered his nose to the mare to exchange breaths.

“I am Fenrir, son of Ragnarök.” the second of that name, the first that would not be forgotten, “and as for what I intend to do in your forest, well, that all depends on what you will allow me to do.” Maybe he liked to watch her have it. Maybe he didn’t want it yet. Maybe he was just bored, but for now Fenrir was content to let Menkhet keep her forest.

The colt was in the corner of his eye all the time but the intensity of his gaze never strayed from the mare, nor did he draw his head back. His voice was low, almost a murmur, ”What will you allow me to do in your forest, Menkhet?"