refuge, he prayed for rest. the baring heat of the desert was like a waking nightmare of his. The panther too used to shade and humidity that he so took for granted, his old home knows nothing of it now- burned to a crisp. everything with him- ended in fire. his brother, his home, his sons. Asura curls along the joints of his wings, hiding amidst feathers to keep in the shade. What once a set of three- a family of four- now only two remain.

he is a dark stain against the sands. a hood made of pale white cloth curls around his shoulders- hiding his form, hiding asura, but it does not hide the movement along his back - something is there, but the set of his shoulders and the determined glint in his eyes similar to a rattlesnake with it's clutch in it's nest. Protective, a manner of speaking from someone who has lost everything, asura is everything, the black mamba knows this- and obediently waits for any danger to pass- the heat of day to lessen, before he slips out to travel alongside hebi.

It is dry- so dry, but hebi knows how to counteract this. Grateful for his tutelage under printed words- the diary that he has stolen of a desert born mammal now serves as a guide. He follows the constellations, the signs of vegetation- of life, and is grateful to spot the outcropping of tree's not too far among the distance. For once, in a long time- large expansive wings spread from under a fragile shawl- seconds to grab the snake in his paws before he aims in direction of life.

Hebi- the snakes settle not far from the outcrop. looking down at the top of a canopy feels like home to him. A jungle admits the desert, a miracle, if he ever saw one. he is not blind to the movement mist the border, the stench of rot- the tinge of society coils in the back of his nostrils and make him wish to gag. clans- he hasn't been in a clan sense-

firesmoke-chocking onbreath ican'tbreathejamma-

the thoughts of darker times lurk on darker beings, and hebi doesn't let it fog his mind as he once did. It is still unpleasant enough to direct his thoughts. wings closing back behind a careful shawl, silence reigns down as he paws along the crater. he could glide down- and face the wraith of whatever desperado's live here. It would not be the first time he killed, it would not be the last. But his peaceful ways would end in one fell swoop. he decides to wait. time is not something he would like to waste, but it is scant a few moments rather than a risk of history repeating itself.

Asura coils along his paw, agreeing silently with his sentiment.

not again, never again