FSE

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The wolf had ill intentions, as was to be expected for a wolf. It was the only reason he asked her here to dance, deep in the darkest forest in the east. Woods so dark they no longer had a name. She was sure of it, his ill intentions.

Prey as she may be, she'd never really feared the dark. More often than not, it spoke to her in a most comforting tone. Tonight was no different. She knew these woods. She'd been abandoned in them, and in a sense, raised by their rich noises and subtle winds. She'd been sheltered and given all the space in the world to hide when she needed it.

Tonight she hoped she would not need the space, but she had faith in the trees. She was here to find a wolf. She stopped roundabout where he had asked, and leaned back against a sturdy, towering tree with a quiet sigh. Her eyes searched the canopy hundreds of feet above her head for the rays of moonlight that filtered through the foliage, tiny lines of light dissolving into the darkness surrounding her.

"So you've come," came his whisper with a sly grin. His words nearly dripping excitement.

"So I have," she replied.

He was near enough, but not within touching range yet. Her bones ached to know him, while her muscles begged her to flee.

"Does anyone know where you are?" He asked.

"What do you think?"

"Mm," he mused. "I do not think that they do. That is probably best, wouldn't want them to come wandering in now, would we?"

"You assume much."

"Perhaps I do." A claw touched her clavicle in the dark, and his eyes were suddenly inches from her own, "Or do I?"

She shivered in response, "You do."

"Then someone does know where you are?"

"Of course," she lied.

"Tsk, tsk, my little rabbit. You know you cannot lie. Your tells are too easy."

She cast her eyes down, away from his oily spheres, searching for something, anything to focus on in the dark. His claw traced her neck and her eyes fluttered. She was uncertain whether she should respond at all, and what type of response it should be. Should she be afraid? Aroused? Cautious? Should she just accept what was to come, no matter the outcome?

He tilted his head at her curiously. "You are such a strange little thing."

"Rabbit." She corrected.

He mused, "Of course. I know that." His claw touched her bottom lip, dragging along it gently. "And what am I?"

"A wolf."

"And what should I do to such a delicate little bunny?"

"Rabbit," she insisted.

He grinned, "Little," he pulled on her lip, pinching it lightly between two claws, "Bunny," he leaned in close to her ear and growled her requested specification, "Rabbit."

She shivered with a tiny whimper, in spite of herself.

He was amused. She felt it. Her tiny little heart was beating so fast she could hear it in her ears. A deep breath was drawn, and released slowly as she tried to center herself.

"Would you please back off a little," she requested of the wolf.

To her surprise, he did. "Am I scaring you?" He asked as he took two steps back, just out of reach.

"Indeed," She found no reason to lie. He'd know if she did anyway. Her tiny trembling gave away her uncertainty.

"Why did you come to me, in all seriousness?" He asked.

She shook her head, "I don't know."

"Sure you do," he insisted. "Creatures without death wishes hardly ever answer my call, especially not all the way out here. So why did you come? If you do not trust me, why are you here?"

Her hands found the hem of her skirt and she tugged on it nervously, "I guess I was curious."

"Curious enough to risk your life?"

"Am I risking my life?" Her eyes lifted from the ground to search his again. They were oily, deep black spheres, but they weren't threatening her, not in anything but jest tonight. "I don't see you threatening me."

"But I could."

"But you won't, not in my woods."

That bemused look crossed his shadowed face once more. "Your woods?"

"Do you not hear the trees?" She looked up at the canopy, at the moon rays. The wind whistled a soft song.

"That's just wind."

"No," she found his eyes again. This time, she dared set a paw on his shoulder, despite the stretch it was for her to reach. She brought him down to her level. He complied with the tugging, and found his ear near her lips, drawn close through curiosity. "Listen," she whispered, her voice softening, "to the trees."

They stayed near, staring at each other, listening to the woods around them for quite a while before he shook his head, "Little bunny, I don't hear anything but the wind in their leaves."

She smiled, "That's the point of it, really."

"The point of what?"

"You not hearing the trees. There's a reason for that."

"What are you talking about?"

Her voice had a hint of threat, and dire seriousness, "These are my trees."

"So they are," he replied. He'd let her have her comforts. Whatever it was that made her feel safe enough to come to him was good enough for now. "Do you know why I asked you here?"

"To play her, of course." She said, rather matter-of-factly.

His eyes narrowed to slits, "Don't ever mention her."

"Oh, so I've hit a nerve."

He growled, pushing her back against the tree and holding her there with one paw. "Don't you dare mention what you know nothing about."

She whimpered, "You're hurting me."

His grip on her shoulder tightened and he growled closer to her ear, "Don't you ever."

"I'm sorry," she whined.

He glared at her, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes to meet his. He held her gaze for a long moment. The silence between them was uneasy. She apologized by keeping his gaze. He let her go, backing off.

"Perhaps you should go." He finally spoke, and turned away.

"No," she responded.

He turned back to her slowly, shaking his head, "You do have a death wish, little bunny."

"A wish, I do, but a death wish? Not so much."

"A wish?" He asked, stepping closer to her.

"Yes."

"What is it you are wishing for, little bunny?"

She glared at him, almost playfully, though still very cautious. "Rabbit," she corrected.

He laughed and shook his head. "You're stubborn."

"You like that."

He smiled. "I do."

"It's most of the reason you asked me to come here."

"It is." He sniffed her fur, "And your smell was tempting, too. You know, I've never really tasted bunny before."

"And you won't right now."

"Are you so sure?"

He reached out and cupped her cheek, dragging a few claws along the back of her neck, scratching into her thick rabbit fur. She shivered and sighed. "I am certain."

"How can you be so certain, little bunny?"

"I told you," she looked up into his eyes with a grin, "I speak with the trees." And before he could grab a proper hold of his bunny friend, she was out of his hands, running farther into the darkness with him in quick pursuit.

"You cannot outrun me!" He growled into the night air as he gave chase to her fluffy white tail.

"I don't have to," she insisted. And then she seemed to just disappear. It was almost as if the trees grew thicker, and the scent of her was lost on the wind that blew through them at that moment. A harsh, terrible wind that spoke of storms to follow.

He growled angrily into the night and screamed a howl full of rage at the sliver of moonlight passing through the trees before the clouds blocked even that tiny bit of light from the forest below. And then came the rain.

In the darkness she thanked her stars for the storm that followed. Rain fell from the canopy in buckets. And the wolf sulked away. She liked this, making him wait. And even though it frustrated him, she was sure the predator in him loved that she slipped away.

She sighed a breath of release when he had gone away, and enjoyed the feel of rain on her fur. She was alone. And she was okay.

The wolf, however, was quite perturbed by the little bunny he'd decided to play with. He was uncertain whether to let her go, or if he should keep pursuing her. She did, however, press his buttons, and peak his curiosity.

He was uncertain how much she knew about Red, and as much as he hated hearing her mentioned, he was curious what people knew and how they spoke of him and his little miss.

He didn't think about her much these days. He just wanted a taste of something new, and bunny was on the menu. His hunger, of course, was one of lust less than stomach, but he'd be happy for either if she made him rage enough. He'd let her remain in the darkness tonight, and send another request in the next few days to see her again. And she would come, as those who come into these woods once for him always return. They can't help it, he's a curiosity. The big, bad wolf.

He laughed at his own musings. "She'll come around," he told himself, "or we will pursue. And we're certain she wouldn't like that." Not to mention, he thought, she seemed very much in the mood to play as well.

He was curious of what to come. And it excited him. And he let the memory of Red drift away into the void-space between that curiosity and excitement he was engendering for the self-proclaimed "Rabbit".