Open  I am no Greater then Your Gods, and No Worse Than Your Demons.
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Kindred she, her
Almost Sparkles
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Pronouns: she, her

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Golden eyes would blink softly in annoyance to the wind that dried them. Fur disturbed in its invisible presence as the soft stands of cells whipped around a lithe and athletic canid shape. No matter the distance, it would be blatant that the wolf was female. The thing frame, the distinguished long face. She was staring off into supposed nothingness. Lost in the distant sights. Her pelt illuminated by the glowing tracks and ridges marking her bodice. She yawned, then continued her stare. Sitting atop the highest point of her little hill, a slight overlook across the expanse of land. Her thing ears swiveled back and a small dark nose twitched. Whiskers quivering. 

She would glance behind her occasionally in worry, then back to the distance, an incredibly long tail laying limp over the hills. The necklace of bird skulls rattling together in their own sort of music. The holes in the bone creating whistles of all separate pitches. Singing to her. She remained silent, merely a statue against the billowing winds. Relentless in their attempt to send the hellion back to wherever she had come. It could have been hours before she finally rose to her feet, hunger tainting her peace. 

"A hunt would seem to be wise. I have not eaten well lately. And I've only been starving my shadows...." She spoke softly. Such a voice wouldn't have been expected from the massive fae. Even as she glanced back to observe the female coyote trailing behind her at a considerable distance. The poor thing burdened under pregnancy. Kindred pushed her ears forward in acknowledgment. The coyote scrambled to hide in fear of the large female catching her. Kindred shook her head and chuckled at the poor thing, smiling. She would never harm the helpless scavenger. Her mate had likely been killed or had left her. She would be burdened with newborns in this disgustingly cruel world. Kindred had slowly been gaining her trust, the coyote would dart behind her if danger rose. And would sometimes come to eat beside her. 

With her mind settled on food to supply herself and the soon-to-be mother, she picked up a soft gallop into the timber to find the easiest form of food. She wasn't a scavenger and didn't ever plan on it. Rather the fae closed in on the scents of a small herd of fallow deer. They weren't too far off and as she gained ground to them, she could sense that there were three or four stags within the group. One of which would be the meal she wanted. 

Kindred approached in silent anticipation, head low as she slowed and crouched. The Herd stood approximately three or four yards ahead, unaware of the looming threat the crouched within the fauna, choosing her next meal. Golden eyes closed in on a large stag, her ears pressing forward. She slowly advanced, silently gliding across the ground with fluid perfection. Her paw pads tingled in excitement. She was close now. The stag was alert, weary. The feeling of eyes burning into his spotted back causing him to create low sounds of worry. But after near to ten minutes he returned to his grazing. Kindred resuming her advancement on the stag. Despite being canid she moved like a panther or lion. Body held only an inch above the ground, tail hovered over the grass to avoid too much noise, though the attempt was futile as one of the does within The Herd crowed out an alarm and the whole herd jerked into a sprint, the stag she had targetted at the lead. 

Kindred cursed and bared her teeth, springing to action as she lunged across the field after the stampede, fainting to the left to leap over logs and rocks, turning again and sprinting to cut them off, running as if she were running from the devil himself. The Herd was close, she could see them approaching, she'd make her move soon.

The second the stag closed distance, she lunged from her place and locked her canines around the crowing prey animal. Snarling at the relentless kicks and strikes it delivered to her side. She shook her head wildly, finally breaking the neck, and cutting off all air access, the stag was dead in seconds. 

Kindred drug the body into the covered forests, setting the kill down and looking around for the pregnant coyote. The sight of the small canid slinking into view and towards the carcass made the end of her long tail sway in welcome, before dipping her head and ripping, digging into the kill eagerly, paying no mind to the coyote who closed in to do the same. In a sense, the scavenger had become her close company. Even if they hadn't spoken, she knew the canid's name. Beverly. The Coyote knew her's as well, but she still didn't trust the wolf much. And Kindred didn't blame her. It would be unfair. Wolves often hunted scavengers. 

Kindred looked to the coyote as she ate eagerly and hummed continuing in her indulgement and losing her sense of mind to the real world, to pay heed to only the meal and the good deeds she had done for the pregnant coyote she traveled with.
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