**TW** Hunt of the Prankish Predator… 1/2

[MissParadoxical]

**Trigger Warning** - Reason: Knife Play

 

As she's musing on her own existence, a stately wolf appears by her side, his demeanor resolute yet gentle, encased within an aura of fortified strength and unyielding self-assurance.

His journey through the woods is etched in his confident stride. As he takes a seat next to her, his presence alone is an invitation to ponder and connect.

In his gaze, she seeks the hidden reservoirs of sagacity, while close behind her, unnoticed, a capricious creature draws near.

"FANCY A BOWL OF STEW?" the approaching beast proclaims as he lugs a massive buck, an offering of sorts, in his wake.

Her reaction is one of surprise, a glimmer of mirth flickering in her eyes. With a cautious wit, she responds, “I have a taste for such fare, provided it harbors no poison!"

His chuckle reverberates through the woods, a toast to risk-taking, "Life's too short for constant wariness…what better way to strengthen our resolve than by braving the occasional peril?"

She reaches out to the wolf beside her, lightly touching his paw…an audacious but not overbearing act, conveying support and a silent vow to return to his side at some point to delve into his depths.

Oblivious to his surroundings, the jovial brute throws himself into the task of dressing the buck, his eyes sparkling with the shadowed delight of the grotesque. His fervor for the recent chase pulses through him, electrifying and unfinished…an appetite not yet quenched. She observes the ritual of his meal's preparation, a muted fascination in her gaze.

"POTATOES!" he bellows suddenly, turning to her with a fervency that startles yet doesn't threaten. Brandishing his hunter's blade as he points, he makes his request known.

She meets his energetic demand with a slow blink and an amused, knowing smile, before seamlessly transitioning to procure his desired tubers from her garden's bounty.

She plunges her nails into the earth, clawing out a selection of potatoes, a subtle smirk gracing her lips…no shadows of threat or anxiety cloud her demeanor. She rinses the harvest in the stream's cool embrace before returning to him and setting them at his feet.

"Carrots!" he commands, his tone firm.

She meets his imperious demand with a look of mild rebellion, etched with a trace of challenge. Yet, she concedes with a grave nod and revisits her verdant treasury.

Emerging once more, she brings not only the requested carrots but a bounty of celery and an assortment of aromatic herbs and spices.

"Now we're cooking," the lively beast exclaims, his grin infectious as he points the blade in her direction, acknowledging the feast taking shape.

Her observation of his actions is interrupted by her own intervention, as she draws her knife, aiming it in his direction to probe his response.

"How delightfully bold…AND KINKY," the beast declares, his countenance alight with the spark of her provocation.

"What might you accomplish with such a tool?" he chides, tossing a chunk of flesh aimlessly at her.

Silence reigns on her part as he carries on, seemingly unperturbed by her display, relegating his own knife to obscurity as he hangs the carcass aloft.

Her approach is unhurried, the knife now an extension of her will to dominate the space they share.

He pivots, his expression composed, his air untroubled, his smile warm. "Would you grace me with the honor of using your knife?" he inquires with refined civility.

Her assent is met with a swift reversal, the knife now a delicate whisper against her throat.

"Such willingness to trust," he quips, his laughter rich and foreboding, yet stripped of venom…a darker jest shared between hunters.


"I want to play a game" he states with the undertones of a question, a sly grin pulling at his lips as he indicates the ropes swaying gently from a neighboring tree…a detail she had overlooked, distracted by his earlier antics.

"No cause for alarm," he hastens to clarify, "These are for my sport, not yours…but can you even craft a proper knot?" he challenges with an impish glint in his eye.

With a flick of his wrist, her knife vanishes into the thicket and with this she feels a twinge of dismay. Her eyes stray to his knife, laying seemingly *** by his belongings.

"Dismiss that thought immediately," he commands sharply. "Unless you intend to forsake all delights to come…. Now, listen closely."

"Confine me with these ropes… invest as much time as you require to ensure my captivity… Once you deem me sufficiently detained… hasten to the forest to seek out your lost knife. If you manage to possess it before I extricate myself, then I shall willingly become your quarry."

"But," he warns, his tone laced with a hint of danger, “when the sound of my approach signals your defeat…you must evade, for the hunt will have been ignited."

She considers him quietly, her resolve forming before she echoes, "Let's play a game…" Her demeanor transforms into something more formidable, a darkness creeping across her features.

She approaches the binding with relentless attention to detail and thoroughness, each knot meticulously executed and reviewed. As she labors, the initial confidence on his face slowly diminishes, replaced by an inkling of insecurity.

“Ready?" She asks, the amusement clear in her voice. His reply is a firm "Set." Without hesitation, she orders, "Go!" and bolts into the dense thicket.

Trust in her memory guides her to the last known resting place of her knife, but her concentration is shattered by the unsettling symphony behind her…first laughter, then frustration, followed by a cacophony reminiscent of infernal fury. He's not amused anymore…

Her attention snaps back to the task at hand, the urgency renewing her resolve as she dismisses his vocal struggle. The knife is swiftly located, the lack of pursuing footsteps a small victory. Yet, a sudden hush descends, chilling her spine as apprehension tightens its grip…

Knife in hand, she risks a glance back. The scene greeting her is a testament to his brute ***…most of the ropes lay in tatters, and yet, the one encircling his torso proves to be his undoing. His formidable musculature now hinders more than helps, as he fights for freedom.

Without further pause, she closes the gap, halting any attempt on his part to untie the knot.

"That was FUN!!" she chortles, her light-heartedness a jarring juxtaposition to his irritation.

"It appears I was mistaken," he acknowledges, a subtle bow to her prowess as she carefully frees him from the rope.

A quiet spell falls over them, heavy with unvoiced thoughts, until he offers a gesture. "Behold your accolade," he says, showcasing himself with a flourish.

However, her facade is anything but amused…impassive, stern. A flicker of disquiet passes through him as she begins.

"Ready?" she purrs.

"Set," his response comes with a hint of reluctance.

"Go..." she whispers.