She ran through the forest.

Swiftly, gracefully, powerfully.

The feeling of the damp air blowing harshly in her face, the sounds of the wildlife and vegetation, the mere presence of it all, made her feel unusually alive. Like there was nothing that could stop her, capture her, kill her.

She felt like a man who for the very first time discovered what it felt like to breath, a lifetime after everyone else.

In many ways, that was true.

For the first time since her birth, she truly had no demands she needed to fulfill. No expectations, and regulations, no responsibilities, nothing.

True, she was basically all alone in the world, considering most of her friends and acquaintances had passed away and she herself had run away from the wizarding world - she no longer felt she could stand living in the midst of it all - but she felt free.

And the feeling of freedom was so very nice. Even better than running, though to her they were basically the same thing.

Yes, Aemilia Black-Potter loved running, especially in her animagus-form.

Pausing midstep in a clearing, roughly the size of a quidditch-field, her shining emerald eyes observed her surroundings while her nose scrunched in concentration as she tried to locate the smell of the rabbit hiding about nearby. She was hungry, and she couldn't deny the allure of the chase, the playful but still deadly game.

She prowled forward, all her senses working at full power with one single purpose, find the prey.

She felt the little piece of animal move with her magic before she saw it with her eyes, and before the small thing could possibly react, she had pounced with a deadly gracefulness, effectively capturing it. She quickly bent her black-furred head down, ending its misery with a hard bite, a scrunching sound ringing through the clearing from the bones and flesh she had broken by doing so. The blood from another's death flowed down her throat and out between her sharp teeth and the power of being the hunter instead of the hunted made her feel euphoric.

She had had too much experience in being hunted not to appreciate it being the other way around. And the feeling of being in control, instead of being a mere pawn to a delusional old man, seeking to control every aspect of her life, was so refreshing she could have cried.

Dumbledore was dead, one of the many victims to the war that had plagued wizarding Britain during the last couple of years. She was definitely not sad to have seen him gone, especially considering that she was the one to have ended him. Not that anyone else in the living world was privy to that particular piece of information, most still thought that Voldemort finally had gotten one on the deceased Headmaster, since considering the man had been a skilled manipulator she would most definitely be actively sought for by the aurors if anyone knew the truth of his demise.

And that was not something she had planned for herself.

Hearing the forest around her shift from movement, she lifted her head swiftly and searched her surroundings. Something was here; she could feel it, both from her magic as well as her superior sense of smell. It didn't mean her any harm, she would have other warning bells going off in her mind if that was the case, but it was unknown. Unknown was still not good.

In the midst of deciding whether or not to disappear, he stepped out into the clearing.

He was large, at least twice as big as her own wolf, and colored a light russet compared to her own pitch-black. She could feel that he, just as her, was not completely an animal, and she didn't doubt that he could sense it too. That made her even more inclined to make a swift departure, but no matter how much she wished it, her paws refused to be lifted off of the hard ground.

Apparently the male had no such problems, seeing a he continued inching forward, stretching out his mind to try and connect with hers. Magic, but not quite.

She was half a mind to refuse the link he was trying to establish, but as usual her curiosity got the better of her, and she left her mind wide open to his presence.

It felt strange, not like all the times Snape had been scurrying about in her brain, but almost like her mind was not still one alone, but part of a collective, a network with multiple minds connected through webs of thoughts and impulses.

The most prominent out of all the new connections she could sense though, was from the one in front of her. His was the one that felt the most natural out of all of them, like it was supposed to be made. She didn't care much at all for things that were meant to be, her past had taught her that lesson well enough, but she couldn't shake off the feeling that if she severed this particular link, she would never be able to happy.

And happy was the one thing she searched for as much as she did free.

The other wolf seemed pleased enough, if the feelings of unrestrained joy at her presence and acceptance was anything to go by, and hurried forward till he almost loomed over her before he reached down and butted his large head against hers in greeting.

She returned the greeting by instinct well imbedded in the nature of her wolf, and couldn't help but marvel at the rightness of it all. How natural it felt and just how happy, she made him by that little action. It felt nice, to make someone else happy, she decided.

Maybe he could make her happy too.