The fae's tricks left Graea trapped in the town infirmary, taken there by the deep voiced male who had found her, until long after the ship had left port and moved on. But fate appeared to have plans for her. The man who had found her was a lycan, alpha of the local pack. He took her in whilst she recovered offering food and shelter, but more than that he offered guidance. She settled somewhat and formed close bonds with the alpha Alastair, pack Elder and two of the wolves, an garou female and a lycan male. It took time. Graea fought aggressively, and often with the three of them. But for whatever reason they saw good in her and stuck by her.
Months passed and some bonds deepened, others were lost to time. Despite the ardent attentions of the lycan male, Marcus, Graea came to see him as something of a replacement for her lost brother, desperately clinging to his companionship more than the others. Loki, the garou female, appeared not to take to Graea particularly well at the outset, finding the ferine female at odds with her own peaceful nature. Yet in time a firm friendship formed and Graea became ferociously protective of these individuals. She had never really spoken of her past, but she was determined not to let history repeat itself.
Under the guidance and gentle paw of her alpha Graea slowly became more accepting of both her companions and her fate. The time for running and searching seemed, if not ended, put on hold. Months became years, tragedy taking away the close bond she had formed with her alpha, but leaving her closer still to the pack elder, joining him as his mate for some time. She put her knowledge and skills to use, taking on the village forge and becoming armourer to the human queen and served as beta to her long time friend Marcus when he became alpha. Suddenly Graea found herself with a family, settling with the elder and his adopted son for some time.
Perhaps fate had been kind.
Sunday, 12 August 2012
Wednesday, 8 August 2012
New Beginning
Graea wandered into the port, her now permanently narrowed emerald gaze scanning around quickly. She didn't like to be so close to populated areas. People wound her up and her temper was not something she cared to control these days... which meant things got messy when she wandered into places like villages and ports. Her general demeanor and constant scowl meant that most people gave her a wide berth though and so as she dropped her bag beside a barrel and perched on it, she was left to herself.
She eyed the ship currently docked, head tilted to the side thoughtfully. Her nose wrinkled against the smell of damp wood, fish and the salty ocean. A quick look was cast back inland. She'd wandered far and wide over the land and found nowhere that called to her. Nowhere that made her want to stop. She wanted more distance from her memories, a futile ambition considering that she carried them with her, but Graea had become rather masterful at burying such things. She seemed to make a decision then, sitting there on the barrel. A way to put more distance between her and her family home. She didn't care where the ship was headed, it didn't matter... she just strolled up to the captain with a small pouch of coins and bartered for passage to wherever the ship was going. She didn't even ask. Her only question - how many days would they be at sea? The full moon only a few days behind her meant that there was a fair distance she could safely travel on the ship and that would serve her well.
She sat on a crate on deck as the ship headed out of port and never once glanced back, staring past the prow of the ship to the horizon. The crew avoided her like the plague... she unnerved them, constantly staring out like that, never speaking, expression cold and distant. But equally, she gave them no trouble, staying out of the way... more of a figurehead than a passenger. A couple of weeks passed before they saw any sign of land, then Graea's relentless staring fixed on that.
They pulled into port several hours later and the ship docked. Graea looked around the fairly quiet port from the deck, gaze then trailing off into the lands beyond. The captain had said this was the Realm of Valahari and was only a stop off, another weeks travel ahead to their final destination. The garou female nodded to herself. Another week's distance was what she wanted, and she had time before the moon became full once again. The ship would be in port for a couple of hours so Graea took the opportunity to hunt, leaving the ship, bag shouldered and a quick glance at the sun to check the time before she headed into the woods.
Hunting was quick. The woods here were full of hares and in no time she'd caught one and eaten. Another glance at the sun told her there was a while yet before the ship would leave and she had no desire to sit around the hustle and bustle of the port so she headed up to an outcrop that looked over the docks, planning to watch until the ship began preparing to leave. Chewing on the last of her meat, she perched on a stone wall, watching the people skitter around the ship like ants, loading and unloading until a flurry of movement distracted her.
She looked up to see a fae hovering nearby. It began flitting around, obstructing her view of the port. She gave a low, threatening growl and the creature began to chatter incessantly, still flittering until Graea snatched up her dagger and swung it at the irritating beast to scare it away. At this the fae's babbling changed tone slightly and it began to point at her. She gave an irritated snarl and swatted out at it again, but it flittered out of reach. Seeing no end to its games, Graea, already agitated, decided to head back to the ship, hopping down from the wall with a snort of annoyance at the fae before heading out over the bridge.
But the seelie's mumbled curse had already taken effect. The creature flew away cackling gleefully as Graea began to stumble on the bridge. She clutched at her stomach and her head as a wave of dizziness and nausea hit her. Her mouth felt dry and her limbs weak. She tried to run on to get back to the ship, but as she headed down the hill from the bridge, she became disorientated, the surrounding landscape swimming around her until eventually she collapsed. Consciousness faded in and out for a few moments, the scent of wolves reached her nostrils, not the musk of a single rogue but a mingle of scents. She became aware of a man and a woman peering down at her. A deep voice trying to speak to her. Then she was lifted from the ground and the world went black.
She eyed the ship currently docked, head tilted to the side thoughtfully. Her nose wrinkled against the smell of damp wood, fish and the salty ocean. A quick look was cast back inland. She'd wandered far and wide over the land and found nowhere that called to her. Nowhere that made her want to stop. She wanted more distance from her memories, a futile ambition considering that she carried them with her, but Graea had become rather masterful at burying such things. She seemed to make a decision then, sitting there on the barrel. A way to put more distance between her and her family home. She didn't care where the ship was headed, it didn't matter... she just strolled up to the captain with a small pouch of coins and bartered for passage to wherever the ship was going. She didn't even ask. Her only question - how many days would they be at sea? The full moon only a few days behind her meant that there was a fair distance she could safely travel on the ship and that would serve her well.
She sat on a crate on deck as the ship headed out of port and never once glanced back, staring past the prow of the ship to the horizon. The crew avoided her like the plague... she unnerved them, constantly staring out like that, never speaking, expression cold and distant. But equally, she gave them no trouble, staying out of the way... more of a figurehead than a passenger. A couple of weeks passed before they saw any sign of land, then Graea's relentless staring fixed on that.
They pulled into port several hours later and the ship docked. Graea looked around the fairly quiet port from the deck, gaze then trailing off into the lands beyond. The captain had said this was the Realm of Valahari and was only a stop off, another weeks travel ahead to their final destination. The garou female nodded to herself. Another week's distance was what she wanted, and she had time before the moon became full once again. The ship would be in port for a couple of hours so Graea took the opportunity to hunt, leaving the ship, bag shouldered and a quick glance at the sun to check the time before she headed into the woods.
Hunting was quick. The woods here were full of hares and in no time she'd caught one and eaten. Another glance at the sun told her there was a while yet before the ship would leave and she had no desire to sit around the hustle and bustle of the port so she headed up to an outcrop that looked over the docks, planning to watch until the ship began preparing to leave. Chewing on the last of her meat, she perched on a stone wall, watching the people skitter around the ship like ants, loading and unloading until a flurry of movement distracted her.
She looked up to see a fae hovering nearby. It began flitting around, obstructing her view of the port. She gave a low, threatening growl and the creature began to chatter incessantly, still flittering until Graea snatched up her dagger and swung it at the irritating beast to scare it away. At this the fae's babbling changed tone slightly and it began to point at her. She gave an irritated snarl and swatted out at it again, but it flittered out of reach. Seeing no end to its games, Graea, already agitated, decided to head back to the ship, hopping down from the wall with a snort of annoyance at the fae before heading out over the bridge.
But the seelie's mumbled curse had already taken effect. The creature flew away cackling gleefully as Graea began to stumble on the bridge. She clutched at her stomach and her head as a wave of dizziness and nausea hit her. Her mouth felt dry and her limbs weak. She tried to run on to get back to the ship, but as she headed down the hill from the bridge, she became disorientated, the surrounding landscape swimming around her until eventually she collapsed. Consciousness faded in and out for a few moments, the scent of wolves reached her nostrils, not the musk of a single rogue but a mingle of scents. She became aware of a man and a woman peering down at her. A deep voice trying to speak to her. Then she was lifted from the ground and the world went black.
Tuesday, 7 August 2012
Nothing
Weeks passed and still the emotional void didn't fade. Graea wandered on wherever her bare feet carried her. She rarely entered any human settlements. They had little that she needed, but she still travelled mostly in her human form, feeling the shattered bonds that she'd had with her family a little less when not in her wolf form. The ordeal with the rogue male was locked away with everything else, hardening the young female yet further. She met a few others similar to him in her travels. Large males with no pack. Not powerful enough to take a pack from another and not prepared to follow another. Some just wandered and tried their luck with passing females in a more casual manner but a few were as the first, aggressive cocky bastards who would simply take what they wanted.
But Graea was a fast learner. She no longer waited to ask questions of herself or of them. She made quicker, harsher judgements and more than once took the rogues by surprise. She rarely came off unscathed, she was much smaller than most of them, but her shift to her natural form was rapid and her wolf was particularly large, with jaws far more powerful than any crinos. More often than not it was the massive golden wolf in her that took down the unsuspecting males and she began to fall to a dark place where she cared not whether she left them alive or dead. The only thing that she was certain of was that no male would ever touch her unbidden again.
Whether the touches offered by those that stopped to try and break into her solitude were offered in kindness, lust or rage, she reacted to them all the same way. Her cold stare and warning snarls were given, though not for long... she would never again give an aggressor time to get near her. Those with brains enough to heed these warnings and leave her be were the only ones who walked away without injury as it was a matter of seconds before the giant wolf erupted from her slender frame, claws and teeth already prepared for attack. Most humans rarely stayed beyond the snarled threats. The one that pressed forwards with thick leather armor and a belt laden with garlic, stakes and silver weapons didn't have the time to use them, and by the time her rage subsided and she prowled away, he would never use them again.
Despite the savage treatment she passed out on those that crossed her, she didn't exactly become news. The males were reluctant to retell their stories, thinking up other ways to explain their wounds... if they survived the blind rage of the enormous, cold-blooded golden female, and she moved on far too quickly, never hanging around anywhere for longer than a day or two. She became a skilled hunter even in her humanoid form, stealthy and sharp. She thought fast and reacted with a calculating precision that served her well. Being her own protector sharpened both her skills and her senses. Weeks faded into months, which in turned blurred into years. Her youthful visage began to darken with a coldness and detachment from the world around her. She had nothing. She felt nothing.
But Graea was a fast learner. She no longer waited to ask questions of herself or of them. She made quicker, harsher judgements and more than once took the rogues by surprise. She rarely came off unscathed, she was much smaller than most of them, but her shift to her natural form was rapid and her wolf was particularly large, with jaws far more powerful than any crinos. More often than not it was the massive golden wolf in her that took down the unsuspecting males and she began to fall to a dark place where she cared not whether she left them alive or dead. The only thing that she was certain of was that no male would ever touch her unbidden again.
Whether the touches offered by those that stopped to try and break into her solitude were offered in kindness, lust or rage, she reacted to them all the same way. Her cold stare and warning snarls were given, though not for long... she would never again give an aggressor time to get near her. Those with brains enough to heed these warnings and leave her be were the only ones who walked away without injury as it was a matter of seconds before the giant wolf erupted from her slender frame, claws and teeth already prepared for attack. Most humans rarely stayed beyond the snarled threats. The one that pressed forwards with thick leather armor and a belt laden with garlic, stakes and silver weapons didn't have the time to use them, and by the time her rage subsided and she prowled away, he would never use them again.
Despite the savage treatment she passed out on those that crossed her, she didn't exactly become news. The males were reluctant to retell their stories, thinking up other ways to explain their wounds... if they survived the blind rage of the enormous, cold-blooded golden female, and she moved on far too quickly, never hanging around anywhere for longer than a day or two. She became a skilled hunter even in her humanoid form, stealthy and sharp. She thought fast and reacted with a calculating precision that served her well. Being her own protector sharpened both her skills and her senses. Weeks faded into months, which in turned blurred into years. Her youthful visage began to darken with a coldness and detachment from the world around her. She had nothing. She felt nothing.
Saturday, 4 August 2012
Vengeance
It was a couple of days later that Graea finally left the cave. She was well fed and well rested and most of her wounds had healed to nothing. She left her few belongings in there for now and stepped out into the dusk. The newly sharpened dagger was strapped to her right arm with a twisted leather thong. With a crack of her neck to one side and a hardened expression on her face, the female headed out into the woods. Rage bubbled just beneath her skin, itching to burst through, but she held it back. She would use it in time, but she had things to do first.
Creeping stealthily back towards the stream it didn't take her long to catch his faint scent. She'd missed it as he'd watched her from the trees as he'd stood downwind, but she would never forget his scent now. The smell of him all over her battered body, mingled with her own blood, would haunt her for many months to come. She ducked through the undergrowth, searching out a trail that she could follow and eventually found one. A cold and distant patience served her well as she tracked him over the next few hours. The scent led her to the outskirts of a small village.
Glad of her humanoid form, she crept through the village, skirting through the shadows between buildings, nostrils constantly flaring. She was no longer his victim. Now she was his hunter. Emerald eyes blazed in the occasional flare of torchlight as she moved closer to the source of the scent. Eventually she found him. He sat alone inside a small hut just outside the village. Hanging meat swung outside the door and the musk of male wolf filled the air. At this range the scent managed to turn her stomach, but the memories it stirred were quickly buried. She was becoming good at that.... pushing back everything from her mind that she didn't want to deal with, hiding it away behind closed doors.
Her ears perked towards the door. No sounds came from within but the scent of him now was too strong for the hut to be empty. Slowly she untied the dagger from her arm and threw it towards the door. It hit with a loud thud against the wood before clattering onto the doorstone. With a bristling and squaring of her shoulders, Graea continued to hold back her shift, fighting against the urge until suddenly the door was yanked open. Standing in the moonlight several paces back from his door, she said nothing, just let her vengeful gaze watch him, full of repugnance and loathing. He looked startled for a brief moment, small satisfaction for her, but then his expression darkened.
Graea didn't wait for him to react, she'd already given in to the rage that boiled her blood and before he could step through the door, she launched her snarling form towards him as the snapping of bone and tearing of muscles reshaped her into her inner beast. A mass of golden fur, snarling jaws and swiping claws landed on his chest, throwing him back into the room. She leapt back from him to snatch up her dagger from the step and kick the door shut. A massive paw raised, mirroring the last movements she'd seen from him before she woke bleeding and battered. Seconds later, not having had time to shift himself, the rogue wolf male lay bleeding and unconscious on the floor, his clothes ripped in places where her claws had bitten into his flesh. Graea dragged him into the middle of the floor with one leg and crouched over him with her dagger in her hand.
Sometime later the massive golden crinos wolf stepped back out into the moonlight, paws and dagger covered in blood. She stalked away from the hut, back towards the woods and never looked back once. Many hours later, inside the hut, the dark haired male would awake, weakened by his own blood loss, his legs and groin covered in blood and his clothes cut away from his body. She hadn't killed him. That had never been her intention. Death was easy... you just laid there and accepted it. No. Graea wanted him to live, and live with a reminder of what he'd done, but she also wanted to be safe in the knowledge that he would never do it again.
A chilling scream would echo around the hut, heard as far as the village and the woods beyond when he finally lifted his head to work out what the bloody mass was that lay in his hand.
Creeping stealthily back towards the stream it didn't take her long to catch his faint scent. She'd missed it as he'd watched her from the trees as he'd stood downwind, but she would never forget his scent now. The smell of him all over her battered body, mingled with her own blood, would haunt her for many months to come. She ducked through the undergrowth, searching out a trail that she could follow and eventually found one. A cold and distant patience served her well as she tracked him over the next few hours. The scent led her to the outskirts of a small village.
Glad of her humanoid form, she crept through the village, skirting through the shadows between buildings, nostrils constantly flaring. She was no longer his victim. Now she was his hunter. Emerald eyes blazed in the occasional flare of torchlight as she moved closer to the source of the scent. Eventually she found him. He sat alone inside a small hut just outside the village. Hanging meat swung outside the door and the musk of male wolf filled the air. At this range the scent managed to turn her stomach, but the memories it stirred were quickly buried. She was becoming good at that.... pushing back everything from her mind that she didn't want to deal with, hiding it away behind closed doors.
Her ears perked towards the door. No sounds came from within but the scent of him now was too strong for the hut to be empty. Slowly she untied the dagger from her arm and threw it towards the door. It hit with a loud thud against the wood before clattering onto the doorstone. With a bristling and squaring of her shoulders, Graea continued to hold back her shift, fighting against the urge until suddenly the door was yanked open. Standing in the moonlight several paces back from his door, she said nothing, just let her vengeful gaze watch him, full of repugnance and loathing. He looked startled for a brief moment, small satisfaction for her, but then his expression darkened.
Graea didn't wait for him to react, she'd already given in to the rage that boiled her blood and before he could step through the door, she launched her snarling form towards him as the snapping of bone and tearing of muscles reshaped her into her inner beast. A mass of golden fur, snarling jaws and swiping claws landed on his chest, throwing him back into the room. She leapt back from him to snatch up her dagger from the step and kick the door shut. A massive paw raised, mirroring the last movements she'd seen from him before she woke bleeding and battered. Seconds later, not having had time to shift himself, the rogue wolf male lay bleeding and unconscious on the floor, his clothes ripped in places where her claws had bitten into his flesh. Graea dragged him into the middle of the floor with one leg and crouched over him with her dagger in her hand.
Sometime later the massive golden crinos wolf stepped back out into the moonlight, paws and dagger covered in blood. She stalked away from the hut, back towards the woods and never looked back once. Many hours later, inside the hut, the dark haired male would awake, weakened by his own blood loss, his legs and groin covered in blood and his clothes cut away from his body. She hadn't killed him. That had never been her intention. Death was easy... you just laid there and accepted it. No. Graea wanted him to live, and live with a reminder of what he'd done, but she also wanted to be safe in the knowledge that he would never do it again.
A chilling scream would echo around the hut, heard as far as the village and the woods beyond when he finally lifted his head to work out what the bloody mass was that lay in his hand.
Changing
Graea woke, eyes slowing blinking open and trying to lift her head to work out where she was. The rocks in her back made her aching body scream out in agony as she shifted slightly. Somewhere nearby the trickle of water told her she was still by the stream. She tried to draw scents in, sniffing at the air, but all she could smell was blood... her own blood. Her nostrils were full of drying blood, her cheek and lips coated with the stuff. Groaning, she closed her eyes and tried to move again. Every muscle burned in protest but she managed to roll to her side as she started coughing. Bile rose quickly from her stomach at the movement and she soon left what little was in her stomach on the rocks.
Wiping her mouth with her hand, she glanced down to see the blood smeared across her fingers and touched at her face again gingerly. Her mind ticked over and over trying to work out what had happened. Her memory only offered her brief still images for reference. Drinking at the stream. The man in the trees watching her. As she tried to shift her leg to steady herself into a sitting position, despite the spinning sensation in her head, a sharp pain ran from her knee to her hip and she cried out. That was when she realised her clothes had been cut from her body and lay strewn on the rocks nearby. Whatever knife had been used had caught her skin and a long cut ran along the outside of her thigh. Trying to sit to examine it, she felt a stabbing agony in her head and her hand flew to her temple to find her hair matted against her skull with blood.
Eventually, still feeling nauseous and dizzy and still unable to quite piece together what had happened, she managed to sit up and examination of her thigh revealed that the knife wound was not the only damage. Blood was smeared between her legs and her inner thighs were covered in bruises, each one the result of strong fingers biting into her skin as she was pulled around. Panic began to well inside her, taking the breath from her lips and leaving her gasping. She began to tremble, memory offering further gruesome snippets of information that had managed to seep through her barely conscious mind. She could almost taste her own fear, see his exultation at this easy conquest. But the worst was his scent... it covered her body, mingling with her own and making her stomach heave again.
Shaking and horrified, she began to try to gather up her belongings, her torn clothes, her bag left where she'd dropped it. She moved closer to the stream and put down her things before plunging her battered body into the freezing water. It took her breath, hitting her chest with a paralysing blow so that she sank into the water. For one brief moment her mind cleared. The swirling of the water above her head closed out everything, the cold numbing her pain away until there was nothing... just her and the water. Then the surface broke to release her and air rushed back in to her lungs and she gave a huge gasp. Righting herself against the rocks on the edge of the water, fingers clinging to them, she lay there and let the water wash away the blood and scents that were such obvious indicators of her ordeal.
She lay there until she could stand the cold no longer, then began to struggle out, bruised limbs and aching muscles stiff and unco-operative. Crouching beside the water she dried herself off with the torn clothing and pulled fresh from her bag. She dressed quickly and then moved away from the stream, the scene offering up too many visual reminders. Before long she had limped and hobbled her way deeper into the woods where she found a small cave and crawled inside. In the darkness she pulled her knees up against her chest and leaned back against the wall and let her mind run. Strangely, the sobs she expected never came. Perhaps used up over recent months. No. She wasn't going to let this break her. Not this. Not after everything else she'd gone through.
Her mind and body had two paths to choose from. One path saw her cowering in fear and creeping around to try and keep her fragile self safe. The wolf female took one look at that path and snorted. Instead she turned down the path with all the metaphorical thorns and dead trees and eerie fog. Picking up the small blade she kept for skinning meat in one hand and a small rock in the other she began to sharpen the blade in slow, thoughtful strokes. Her father had said that wolves didn't need weapons. But Graea was prepared to make an exception in this case.
Wanderer
Weeks passed by in an incomprehensible blur as Graea wandered from one place to another, never staying around long, never making any sort of connection with the people she met. She travelled in her human form, a small bag carrying what belongings she'd taken from the den before she left. The daggers strapped to her arm and thigh served her well as she hunted for food, hiding away in the woods to eat and rest. She avoided settlements where possible, not needing any provisions that she couldn't source away from the company of people.
Occasionally she came across other wolves, mostly lone or rogue males. Some of these merely passed her by, others tried to stay around, their intentions less than pleasant. In her solitary and mournful state, she was in no mood for company, rejecting any would-be companions. At first she simply avoided others, rejecting their advances on the backfoot, edging away until they took the hint. Bolder pursuers needed bolder rebuttals though and the sorrowful female began to revert to a more feral state, letting her rage run unchecked.
Sitting by a stream, filling her skins with water one day, months after she'd left her home, her alert senses pricked to a rustling sound behind her. Whipping her head round, a low snarl ripped from her throat. She no longer waited to ensure that any who approached deserved such treatment. Her emerald gaze now permanently narrowed into a suspicious and wary stare, she scanned the treeline until she saw him. A tall man with long thick dark hair spilling over his shoulders stood not 20 feet away watching her. The almost imperceptible flare of his nostrils told the observant female more than he intended to show as he stood downwind and his scent didn't quite reach her own nostrils.
A salacious smirk crossed his lips as he eyed the slender female crouched before him. Sure she was feisty, snarling at him already, but he could see she was young, alone and likely no match for his strength. He was a confident, cocky male. He stepped out of the treeline as soon as he noted that she had seen him. "This will go easier on you if you co-operate, my pretty." he growled out as he began to close the distance. Graea tensed, her posture becoming more aggressive as her head whipped around to quickly take note of her surroundings, the width and speed of the water flowing behind her, the slipperiness of the rocks, the distance to cover in the far trees.... then back to him, his height, his potential weight, the level speed and agility he displayed. Her father had taught her well and as well as being able to react quickly, she knew she had to judge her predicaments. But whilst she had knowledge, she was still young - she lacked experience and was now wasting time.
She watched him draw near, flexing her neck to one side with an audible crack as her body began to bristle ready for her shift. But it was too late. She'd spent too long assessing and not enough time running. His hand outstretched and with lightning speed a fist like a boulder struck the side of her skull. Darkness came quickly, her limp body falling quickly to the rocks as her clouding gaze watched him standing over her, unbuckling his belt with a vicious, smug smile on his lips. His foot reached out to kick at her to check for any reaction. The last thing her emerald eyes saw before they closed was him bending down to grab her.
Occasionally she came across other wolves, mostly lone or rogue males. Some of these merely passed her by, others tried to stay around, their intentions less than pleasant. In her solitary and mournful state, she was in no mood for company, rejecting any would-be companions. At first she simply avoided others, rejecting their advances on the backfoot, edging away until they took the hint. Bolder pursuers needed bolder rebuttals though and the sorrowful female began to revert to a more feral state, letting her rage run unchecked.
Sitting by a stream, filling her skins with water one day, months after she'd left her home, her alert senses pricked to a rustling sound behind her. Whipping her head round, a low snarl ripped from her throat. She no longer waited to ensure that any who approached deserved such treatment. Her emerald gaze now permanently narrowed into a suspicious and wary stare, she scanned the treeline until she saw him. A tall man with long thick dark hair spilling over his shoulders stood not 20 feet away watching her. The almost imperceptible flare of his nostrils told the observant female more than he intended to show as he stood downwind and his scent didn't quite reach her own nostrils.
A salacious smirk crossed his lips as he eyed the slender female crouched before him. Sure she was feisty, snarling at him already, but he could see she was young, alone and likely no match for his strength. He was a confident, cocky male. He stepped out of the treeline as soon as he noted that she had seen him. "This will go easier on you if you co-operate, my pretty." he growled out as he began to close the distance. Graea tensed, her posture becoming more aggressive as her head whipped around to quickly take note of her surroundings, the width and speed of the water flowing behind her, the slipperiness of the rocks, the distance to cover in the far trees.... then back to him, his height, his potential weight, the level speed and agility he displayed. Her father had taught her well and as well as being able to react quickly, she knew she had to judge her predicaments. But whilst she had knowledge, she was still young - she lacked experience and was now wasting time.
She watched him draw near, flexing her neck to one side with an audible crack as her body began to bristle ready for her shift. But it was too late. She'd spent too long assessing and not enough time running. His hand outstretched and with lightning speed a fist like a boulder struck the side of her skull. Darkness came quickly, her limp body falling quickly to the rocks as her clouding gaze watched him standing over her, unbuckling his belt with a vicious, smug smile on his lips. His foot reached out to kick at her to check for any reaction. The last thing her emerald eyes saw before they closed was him bending down to grab her.
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