The mist morphed around him like a cloak, evaporating at his touch. Such details marked a wolf of interest and was not lost in Grimoire’s observations as she surged closer. She also noted, he was too small to be the red-eyed tempter of seasons past. The snarl from his lips was higher pitched that she expects; he was young. The three observation were made synchronously and instantaneously with the action of her pounce.

Paws slammed into his shoulders and sides, but her pounce was off. His small stature had been concealed by the mist evaporating off of him, and saved him from serious damage. Grimoire criticized that her judgement of his size came from her illusions, not from fact. Illusions had their place in prognostication, but were not valuable in the physical act of hunting. The mistake caused her legs to itch as if she were infested with fleas. Her paws raked down on either side of him and she landed solidly on the ground, the jar being expertly absorbed through a soft bend in her limbs. Her pearlescent eyes tracked him in the moment it took him escape from under her and wheel around. Impressive agility, adorable defense - look at him! Just like a cat.

Then, the mist obscured him to the point where he was a grey silhouette with crimson eyes. Nature seemed to be twisting to protect him; Her deranged mind wondered why it desired to conceal his idenity? No matter… she would soon have him immobilized. Grimoire’s lip quirked upwards and she returned a snarl with an hissing exhale; the tone diminuendoed as she ran out of breath. In the space of her faded voice, her ears twitched at his single word. You… Me? Grimoire’s teeth glided out, smiling sickle blades. She hummed,

”Indeed. Do you run?”

In the confined space between the boulders, Grimoire side stepped to the right, effectively blocking the low paths that would eventually lead into the the Grotto’s maze. She desired to drive him up; into the difficult, slippery stones of the pools and exhaust his ability to be agile. Perhaps then, she could enclose him in a dead end. She sprung at him, teeth aimed to rake the flesh where his leg met his body, on the back side of the leg.