4/4/2026, 10:39 PM
she did not answer with words.
a low, guttural sound rumbled from zharille’s chest in answer — heavier than the other’s grunt, vibrating through the cold night like distant rockfall. her amber eyes narrowed, fixed on the hare still clenched between the smaller wolf’s jaws. the power that had burned through her veins since castle rock surged again, hot and possessive, refusing to let something so small stand in her way.
she took one slow, deliberate step closer. her heavy paw came down hard, claws slicing through the thin crust of frost and sinking deep into the frozen earth beneath. snow crunched loudly under her weight. another step followed, shoulders rolling with the same blunt force she had used to break saplings and bodies alike. the distance between them shrank until the heat of zharille’s breath rolled over the other wolf in visible clouds.
the words that came through the stranger’s full mouth were muffled but clear enough.
zharille’s lips curled back just enough to bare the sharp edges of her yellow teeth. her tongue pressed against them as she tasted the cold air and the rich copper still lingering on the wind. hunger gnawed at her insides like a living thing, sharper now that the kill was so close. yet beneath the ache rode something uglier — the arrogant certainty that this soft highland night, this hare, this wolf too—all of it should already be hers.
instead, a deep, rolling grunt tore from her chest, raw and commanding. her head lowered further, massive jaws parting as hot breath washed over the hare and the wolf holding it. her ears flicked once, forward and dominant, while her tail hung low and stiff behind her. every line of her heavy frame spoke the same message:
give.
she did not stare for long.
with a sudden, brutal surge, zharille lunged forward. her massive head shot down, jaws gaping wide as she aimed to tear the hare free from the other wolf’s grip.
the hare’s blood-scent filled her nostrils, rich and maddening, making her stomach twist violently with need. the phantom cries for mercy still echoed faintly in the back of her skull, but they were drowned out now by the roar of fresh hunger. she would rip the kill away, swallow it whole if she had to, and leave this stranger with nothing but the taste of defeat if they dared resist.
a low, guttural sound rumbled from zharille’s chest in answer — heavier than the other’s grunt, vibrating through the cold night like distant rockfall. her amber eyes narrowed, fixed on the hare still clenched between the smaller wolf’s jaws. the power that had burned through her veins since castle rock surged again, hot and possessive, refusing to let something so small stand in her way.
she took one slow, deliberate step closer. her heavy paw came down hard, claws slicing through the thin crust of frost and sinking deep into the frozen earth beneath. snow crunched loudly under her weight. another step followed, shoulders rolling with the same blunt force she had used to break saplings and bodies alike. the distance between them shrank until the heat of zharille’s breath rolled over the other wolf in visible clouds.
the words that came through the stranger’s full mouth were muffled but clear enough.
who are you?
zharille’s lips curled back just enough to bare the sharp edges of her yellow teeth. her tongue pressed against them as she tasted the cold air and the rich copper still lingering on the wind. hunger gnawed at her insides like a living thing, sharper now that the kill was so close. yet beneath the ache rode something uglier — the arrogant certainty that this soft highland night, this hare, this wolf too—all of it should already be hers.
instead, a deep, rolling grunt tore from her chest, raw and commanding. her head lowered further, massive jaws parting as hot breath washed over the hare and the wolf holding it. her ears flicked once, forward and dominant, while her tail hung low and stiff behind her. every line of her heavy frame spoke the same message:
give.
she did not stare for long.
with a sudden, brutal surge, zharille lunged forward. her massive head shot down, jaws gaping wide as she aimed to tear the hare free from the other wolf’s grip.
the hare’s blood-scent filled her nostrils, rich and maddening, making her stomach twist violently with need. the phantom cries for mercy still echoed faintly in the back of her skull, but they were drowned out now by the roar of fresh hunger. she would rip the kill away, swallow it whole if she had to, and leave this stranger with nothing but the taste of defeat if they dared resist.