Silverblood

Hunt

Males and females were gathered in front of the woods, their skin adorned with swirls of paint.

Blue for the females.
White for the males.

Their bodies were mostly exposed, only scrapes of cloth covering the most intimate parts.
Gone was the human attitude, their wilds taking control. They were predators. Wolves prowling under human skin, flashy eyes, bared teeth.

Nora had explained to me that this hunt was considered almost sacred. It was their way of celebrating the arrival of Spring, thanking the Goddess for the game that now roamed the woods. She had even told me that it was a sort of competition. Males against females. Whoever brought back the fattest, succulent, biggest prey would win. Or sometimes, even the deadliest. Accordingly to Nora's words, the males had won two years in a row. This year, the females were dead set on winning. I could see the want in their bodies buzzing with energy, in their muscles bulging under the skin. They were powerful, almost intimidating as a pack. They were warriors. And they were no less than the males.

I was in the rear, no paint adorning my skin, no scrapes of cloth covering my body. Some had offered to paint and dress me accordingly, but I had refused. I wasn't part of the pack. I wasn't thanking the Goddess. I was taking part in this just because I had some stress to relieve. And obliviously because I would never back down from a hunt. You could choose to hunt in group or by yourself: I chose to be by myself. Group work wasn't for me.

Two figures distanced themselves from the gathered wolves. One painted in white, one painted in blue. The highest ranking male and the highest ranking female. Their bodies were the most decorated: intricate swirls covered every inch of exposed skin, from their feet to their faces. Nora's curls were styled in two tight braids, leaving her face bare. Brown leathers covered her chest and pubis, blue designs on her milky skin. She looked like a warrior from another era. A leader for this pack of females.

My eyes went to other lonely figure, power rolling off his body. Hercules was bare chested, his muscles outlined and defined by lines of white. Lines that went down his thighs, curving along his knees and calves, and disappeared on his feet. He looked like a god. Like a Greek god of the hunt. He was mesmerizing. His eyes scanned the females, focused and unfaltering. And then they met mine. Their shade was enhanced by the pale swirls on his face, his features looking even sharper. A line of white went down his Cupid bow, dividing his lips in half. Lips that I had tasted weeks ago. A shiver went down my spine, but I tried to maintain a straight composure. His gaze was intense, the wolf showing behind the blue. It conveyed what his mouth couldn't. That it should be me in front of the females. That it should be me wearing leathers and blue paint. That it should be me with my hair in tight braids. That it should be me the highest ranking female. And for a second, I imagined myself like that. Leading the females in this hunt, my body covered in blue. Me, in front of them, side by side with the male that was my mate. I couldn't suppress the shiver this time. Hercules' eyes didn't miss it, darkening in response. My beast rumbled appreciatively, both at the image of us like that, both at the way Hercules was looking at us. Clearing my throat, I looked away. I couldn't go down that path right now, it was not the time.