Woodland Monarch (OPEN)

He was drawn to the scent in the woodland like a moth is drawn to light. And just as a moth is made helpless by its attraction to light, the wolf was made helpless by his attraction to this calling card. A primal instinct drove Nash to pursue the lovely odor, a perfume stronger than any flower and could put meadows of wildflowers to shame. It was more powerful than the smell of fresh meat and drove him forward with a hunger more intense than he had ever felt. He was panting softly, enjoying himself as he tracked down than wonderful scent, his silvery snout trying to keep track of this particular quarry.

It was not an easy task, because the winding trail left for him to follow was becoming more and more difficult to trace as the powerful smell of earth and undergrowth began to eat it away, stealing from him the satisfactions he sought in the owner of this cologne. Nash was growing frustrated as he tried to track this aroma, his hackles up and his eyes shining greedily, scanning the forest obsessively in hopes he could just catch a glimpse of the perfume's owner. He needed to keep this trail. It was important to the wolf and he could not understand why, but urgency was distracting him from discovering reason.

He huffed, growing agitated, his nose sniffing furiously among the forest floor. He almost struck his soft nose against the thorns of a bramble in his haste to catch the scent and was delighted to see a tuft of fur clinging there. He pushed his nose into it, inhaling deeply. It was amazing, this scent. Nash looked up quickly and was glad he did, because the creature he had been looking for was now in view. She was absolutely stunning in the womb of the woodlands, her beautiful coat shining in the patches of golden light that spilled from overhead. It was a wonder she hadn't disappeared completely in the landscape, her silver and chestnut fur cloaking her in camouflage.

Nash grew excited, his eyes sparkling like citrines as he gazed upon her feminine silhouette, a beautiful woodland creature unmarred by any blemish. He was so young and foolish, so clouded by lust and curiosity, that he actually convinced himself that he was falling in love. The female wolf was gorgeous and he didn't even need to know her name. She was perfect in every aspect and Nash just had to have her.

But, these thoughts evaporated when she began to move away from him, putting more distance between them. Nash didn't care for the fact she was beginning to shrink in the distance and he realized she was running. His heart sank, breaking. He couldn't lose her now. His dark, silvery frame jolted into motion. He was long-limbed and lithe, not as compact and graceful as the female wolf, but he was being driven forward by a masculine sort of desperation and found speed in his limbs. He galloped over the earth, his feet almost flying. His bright eyes were fixed ahead on her, her feathery and billowing hindquarters. She was swift, already gaining distance away from him.

Nash leaped, dodging and ducking to race behind her, but following her trail was tricky, especially since she was already ahead of him and continuing to drop him behind. He almost ran into a blackberry tangle, which would have hurt him and caused him to lose sight of her. She was wonderfully quick and extremely intelligent, leading him not in a straight line, but instead ran him through an obstacle course. Felled trees needed jumped and scattered boulders needed dodging. Nash willed his long-legs to move and fast and he broke his gaze off her hindquarters. He veered quickly to the right, stealing his feet on to more level ground. Ferns lined his home stretch as he panted heavily, running to catch this forest nymph like a satyr.

Her laughter caught his ears, a fairy noise that made Nash's heart ache. He felt agility course, renewed by her laughter, and he pumped his hindlegs faster and extended his forelegs longer. He was almost running beside her, but the undergrowth was obscuring them from seeing each other. He saw only flashes of chestnut and fawn, fleeting patches of black and gray. He wondered if she was seeing flashes of him, too.

Her gait was slowing and Nash could smell a tinge of wariness in her perfume. Nash matched her, slowly drawing himself back until he was trotting. His tongue was rolling comically out of his mouth. He drew away slightly, crouching in the shadows of the shrubbery. He watched as she appeared in a more open area of the woods, a bright pool of light illuminating her. She was speaking out loud, confident and carefree. Her hackles were up slightly, but so were Nash's. He could not contain his excitement at being so near her.

She cleared her throat and called out, charming him out into the open. Like that moth to light, Nash stepped forward, shouldering his way slowly through a patch of honeysuckle. He was excited, but now nervousness was settling in. His heart was pounding from the run and from the lovey-dovey feelings bubbling up inside him. She said there was no need to stalk her and that she enjoyed a good running partner. His heart could have skipped a beat. He would kill to be her running partner any day.

She then taunted him further, saying she didn't bite. He felt foolishly bold now, confident and flirtatious himself. He pushed his way through the undergrowth slowly, emerging in what he hoped to be a handsome entrance. He threw his shoulders back and lifted his head, hoping to showcase what an attractive specimen he was. The silvery black wolf did not realize that he had pushed himself right through a caterpillar nest and was unaware that hundreds of caterpillars were now clinging to his fur. They were bright yellow and black, not kind caterpillars and capable of stinging.

"Well, I don't mind if you bite," Nash sounded cocky and inviting, drenched in his own ego that he almost didn't feel the first sting. He simply tossed his head, shaking out the mane of fur around his neck. His yellow eyes found her face and glowed there, drinking up the elegance of her features. Then, he glanced down and noticed the caterpillars he displaced.

"Huh," his masculinity disappeared as confusion took precedence. He stared down at the strange bugs until he felt a more painful sting on his rump. He yelped, whirling around and realizing he had unpleasant hitchhikers in fur. As if the second bite were a signal, all the other dozens of caterpillars began stinging.

Nash started yelping, throwing himself down to roll in the dirt, desperate to crush the painful stingers.