Three Word Wednesday CLXXXII Brazen, Hunger, and Nuzzle
She cradled his warmth, gently nuzzling his fur. He had fought the hunger, trying to brazen it out, until it became too much and the moon called him. He tried to ignore the call of the smells coming from the barn, but the siren song of the tides and the smell of warm flesh pulled him like the ebb and flow of the waves. There was a gunshot and now she sat weeping, blood on her hands.