I GOT A BONE TO PICK

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[div style="background-color:#BG COLOR;width:90%; overflow: stretch;text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt;"] The makings of a clan was the makings of pack. Both very similar, in that predators of a many kind come to gather and hunt as one- for the all- a great sacrifice must be made. It was not something argus was unused to. Living as an immortal- being born within a clan she had lived on the edges of them for a very finite amount of time. Now, an officer of the typhoon that did not change her. She would still prefer to hunt alone. Prefer not to be seen eating. It had nothing to do with a certain shy nature of herself. She did not consider herself a naturalist.

No, Argus was argus. That was all there was to it. Wasn't there?

Argus prefers to eat at night. Not for any particular reason. There are other creatures who hunt, and kill their prey as brutally as she does- she is sure. There was nothing tender footed-no soft spot of vulnerability when she ate. It was rather a quick affair. She feasted on any breed, any life that held a heartbeat. anything with living concentration of reshi- soul particles. Soul fragments. Little pockets of power. She did not hunger for mortal or immortal flesh. But she still indulged from time to time. Still allowed the blood to bathe the walls of her throat and drink the life-blood of anything caught between her jaws like a desperate blood-sucking vampire. Still enjoyed the texture of tendons cutting away beneath the crush of her jaws and blend into the long fur of her chest as she dived into a corpse.

She remembers what it was like to hunger. Of course the feeling never truly left her. Where it once was something easily satisfied. It is now never ending. Only lessened every night with each feast set out before her. Remembers savoring the taste of red meat, white meat- plant sap and anything the little scavenger she could find. A nobal breed of wolf turned into something as dull as a common scavenger. But within the deserts- when she was mortal there was not so much plenty. Even within a clan the fresh kill piles were craw food- meant to lure down the ventures for the bigger clan mates to claim as their own.  Little runts like herself were seen as only more kill. A bigger lure to draw down the large bloody creatures that flew from the sky- live bait.

But now, within the light of day it had been three nights since she had had a meal. Not because she wasn't hunger- or some self punishment. Three nights ago she laid out a feast within treasure cove. And the blood still stained her pelt. Dark splotches of red stained pink into her fur. Both from her trips to the water, and the white of her fur. Carnage marked onto her fur in light splashes of what should be considered an open and bubbly color. The same shade splashed across her throat and chest, digging deep into her skin in the form of glittering scars.

But where she was born, scars were meant to be work as trophies. Warning signs to any enemy and passerby of the wilder's danger. their ability to survive above all. These were new, but the older ones only lurked under paler skin. Woven into her own broken shattered soul.

It wasn't often that Argus could be found within one of the camps. But the jungle held little meaning to her now. The entrance of the lands a big n o considering what triggered her little midnight feast before. She needed a breather, and nothing was better than the sight of the sea on the very different sands. What better way was there to submerse herself in the now, than to remind herself what was different?

Red eyes landed on tesserae. Watching the hunger mingle within her crewmate's eyes but no appetite for what was before her. Well, there was only really fish within the freshkill anyway. Maybe she hungered for some red meat? The white wolf lumbered over. Wings spread slightly on each side- not to their full wingspan but in a way to cover the mark along her shoulder. "Need someone to hunt with there, tess?"