★ -- Exodus only knew of the warmth of her siblings and mother's quiet, but strong and powerful gentleness.

She knew that there were others hat roamed the island. The youth cared little for them, though they intrigued her, their very existence sending a curious little spark igniting her veins like fire.

They were not prey, as she had come to learn. They were not friend or foe either. They were just there.

And Exodus did not know what to make of them.

Her curiosity was more dismissive than anything; Exodus did not linger on the existence of strange, twisted creatures with vibrant pelts and horns and wings that looked nothing like prey or like mother or her family. The inquisition burbling underneath her skin churned until she allowed herself to force it back down. Perhaps they were prey in the end? Strange prey-- prey that Exodus did not eat but she knew if the safety of her family was compromised, no love would be held for these foreigners and their ways.

She had, ignored them, for the most part.

But this one was hard to ignore.

Vivid yellow in color, speaking in the same babbling language that she had heard so many times, but couldn't care to understand. It was not as if she could, anyways. There was almost a barrier between them, the typhooners and the newborn creatures of old. Their eyes gleamed with an intellect Exodus knew she could not match, and it almost disturbed her.

But why would a predator be unsettled by prey? Prey that she would not eat, but prey nonetheless. She did not know of what else to call them.

It was on this fine day that Exodus had decided to follow her brother, slinking a good few yards behind them. As her body was preparing itself for moult in the days to come, thin, needle like quills pushed it's way past her skin, ready to make way for a sleeker set of feathers. She did not know what to make of it, other than the fact that it hurt and she itched and ached and felt as if all her skin were to peel away. The feathers upon her little frame felt loose somehow, and Exodus would have become uneased at the prospect of nakedness. To be without her feathers was simply ridiculous. But then she eases herself with the thought that this new burn was to give way for a metamorphosis; one that would make her more akin to mother. One that would strip her of her feathers and expose patches of skin and scales that would harden into sable midnight armor. Her baby quills were growing spines and her feathered arms would elongate into webbed wings. It had to be so. She was sure of it.

The stranger before her was approaching her brother, speaking in an unknown tongue that sent a trill of wonder down Exo's spine. He did not radiate ill intent, but rather something far more diluted. Exodus found it was still something she did not quite like.

Exodus did not know what to make of it, and as always, a test was afoot. The utahraptor would see if this strange feline were friend or foe. Her bites was always foolproof. How he reacted; with mild annoyance, fear, or anger, would determine if he was worth noticing or considering a threat.

Waddling behind Caesar on ungraceful limbs, the child would attempt to extend her neck and aim to nip the officer, right on the butt, letting loose an obnoxious cooing sound as she did so, almost as of she were laughing.

But Exodus could do no such thing, right?

// dkrirbrj I'm sorry it had to be done

★ -- Exodus isn't sure what she had been expecting.

But she had not been expecting the snap of claws to her face at all.

The sting is sudden, and Exodus rears, hissing indignantly. The others were never so blatantly unwelcoming of her testy bites. She was a pest, to be sure. But a fiesty one, at that.

She had not quite felt pain like this before. It stung and the hostility that radiated from Caesar spoke of ill intent. The creature's anger was in no way threatening to the boisterous little child, but in turn it fueled her own rage, like a flame sputtering to life. She did not see a threat, but a blasphemous act-- she was a spoiled girl, left alone to her own devices and free to explore as she pleased, coddled by Lucifer (mother). Exodus was not unfamiliar with anger, but any signs of vexation aimed at her had been practically nonexistant to this point, and Exodus found that she did not like it at all.

Her maw peeled back into a tiny little snarl, pearly, tiny teeth on display with a hiss. Her tail curled, and then it splayed, the fluffy down on her body (not quite yet fully fledged feathers) puffing out with her irksome.

A soft shree escaped her lips as she lunged forward, aiming a warning snap towards her offender.

And then there was the click of jaws as Elia snapped playfully at the utahraptor.

Luckily for Caesar, Exodus was far too easily distracted. He had been saved from Exodus's indomitable, unconquered (hah) wrath. She'd be back, another day to deliver the utmost pain. Perhaps. But not today.

She would not forget today, though. Exodus held grudges and she held them well.

Her direction shifted, albiet reluctantly. A hiss has burbled from her lips, though died down as she cocked an inquisitive head at the typhooner.

Exodus knew of play. She knew of tumbling with her siblings and wrestling with them to strengthen her developing muscles; to prepare herself for the fights to come.

Elia's posture was open and inviting. Raptor play was usually rough and tumble. Undignified and unrefined, and lacked the aggression they projected towards so many other things. Somewhat reminescent of the dominance battles that would occur in the near future.

Elia was no pack member. But a call to a tussle could not be ignored. It was clear that Exodus had yet to abandon her childish ways.

Exodus's tail rippled side to side in concentration, much like a cat wiggling its hips before a pounce. As the young reptile crouched, she sprung, aiming to sweep Elia off her feet with a harmless little shove.

She wanted to see how the other would react.

// mobile, have this trash response