Cordelia
She smells it first. Cordelia was familiar with Noah's lynx shift, having the scent committed to memory and able to place it anywhere, but this isn't a lynx. It's definitely not Noah. Her steps falter and she freezes, nostrils flaring and ears flicking forward, waiting for whatever predator that's nearby to give itself away. She hears the whisper of paws across snow, a twig snapping as the beast lowers itself onto its belly, clearly intending on stalking closer to her from wherever it's at.
Her first step is slow. Cautious as she creeps through the tree line like a ghost. The white coat of her shift easily hiding her against the snow. The big cat following her isn't so lucky and she spots him first. There is an intake of air and she waits, preparing to bolt as soon as it makes its move, knowing that she'd likely outrun this beast.
Her first step is slow. Cautious as she creeps through the tree line like a ghost. The white coat of her shift easily hiding her against the snow. The big cat following her isn't so lucky and she spots him first. There is an intake of air and she waits, preparing to bolt as soon as it makes its move, knowing that she'd likely outrun this beast.
Barefoot in the wildest winter
Catching my death
Catching my death
