Wolf and the Raven
“Stay with me…” she begged, but it was too late. Her black eyes followed his back into the trees, only paw prints in the dirt to remind her that it wasn’t a dream. The moon calls to his wild heart and not even the wings of a raven could contend with his love to run. In the distance his howl told her that he’d shifted, and his pack answered in full. Music of the hunt circled through the underbrush making goosebumps raise across her pale skin, blood splattered here or there from the deer laying motionless, half eaten in the clearing. Stomach rumbling she didn’t bother to change, instead shoving her hands into the chilled belly of the doe, ripping a chunk of fatty meat out and eating it raw. Blood coated her mouth and as the meat slid down her throat she smiled, the sadness of his departure only deep behind those black eyes. He hunted for her on the full moon, the lone wolf, the protector, her love. The wilderness that brought them together the only thing holding them apart. Ripping another chunk of meat from the deer she fell into the memory of how they first met, the day he almost died.