CaptainSelection

A puff of cold air, soft and swirling in the chilled Russian air escaped from pale white lips. It was deep in the middle of winter in Russia, and a young minotaurian satyr, not yet even four hundred years in age was out hunting alone. His long tail was held steady to balance his weight as he perched in a tree. Robkiy shifted his feet in the tree, mismatched eyes trained on the small deer in the clearing beneath him. The satyr's long soft ears twitched softly, waiting for the prey to let it's guard down. There, the deer had lowered it's head to root under the snow for any treats it could dig up. He licked his lips hungrily, he hadn't had a suc