bones and roses; any

[Sawtooth]

Sawtooth is lazing on a log.

Because wolf-pups can do that much better than silly filly-foals can. Sometimes she scrapes at the old bark with a flex of her front paws as if to test their mettle or just sharpen the nails that poke out of each toe. Her tongue lolls out in a contented pant as her stare strays across the wild playground. 

If she feels any measure of loneliness, she doesn’t let on. But it’s there - she’d like to make a friend but part of her thinks not.

So after a little time has passed, the pup slides off the log to roll and tumble about in the grass. She stalks and leaps after grasshoppers and shadows. Howls at her reflection in the ponds she comes across. Sawtooth runs wild with the wind the only thing to encourage her. 

If a fairy is about, she doesn’t see it.

Might even mistake it for a dragonfly if she did. Hopefully the fairy would forgive her if she snapped her jaws at it in exploration and play. She’s not really hungry since she stole back to the beach and cracked a few of her mother’s bones open to suck the marrow out. So it wouldn’t be an act of hunger... just plain old curiosity.

Except there seem to be no fairies about. No animal-babies either. Not a foal in sight! Sawtooth frowns then disappears into a thicket full of overgrowth and snow. When she emerges from it, it is as a small winged filly with fangs that perk out from beneath her lips. She spreads her wings and shakes some of the snow off the feathers then repositions the wings at her iridescent blue sides. 

“Harrumph!” is all she manages, still looking around at nothing.