I BET MY LIFE — visitor

[Ebra M.]

SINGING IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT

EBRA MOONSPINNER — MALE — THEY/THEM — HARD

Ebra had lost count of days.  Weeks?  A moon or even more?  They were beyond lost, but not beyond hope.  Searching, praying for a sign.  Upon Anubis' suggestion, the sand cat had tried the Force, but unpracticed without a guide, it was like searching for a needle in a haystack.  They needed to do this the old fashioned way.

First step; location.  They needed solid information of their current whereabouts, and details on the sentient creatures around them.  From there, they could move on to the actual task at hand.  Locating. We should shift, for an aerial view. Only if your goal is to pass out from exhaustion. The Egyptian god went begrudgingly silent, the shadow following the desert feline reverting back to its original feline shape from jackal.  Ebra took full rein, wishing, not for the first time, that their bond with Lessa had not grown so quiet.  She might be able to give them so pointers, or just encouragement.

Friendless.  Sister missing.  Ebra hoped chasing after their only family not stuck in the deserts of their old home was not for nothing.  They had done it once, they could do it again.  Only, they doubted their little sister, has rambunctious as she was, would find herself in a jungle, of all climates.  The feline sighed, examining the railroad gate with a propped brow as they realized they had finally stumbled across a scent border.

That meant someone lived out here.  A group.  And when there was one group, they usually had neighbors.  Maybe... Maybe she was out here, closer than before.  If she was not here, perhaps she was in a neighboring group, but a little push in the right direction never did any harm. Here goes nothing.

Tired, the sand cat sat down, curling their tail neatly around their paws, sky blue eyes hazy.  Hopefully, someone did have an answer.  That was, they realized dully, assuming whoever was here was willing to help in the first place.  Pessimism never these situations.

Biting back a yawn, they spared another full glance around.  "Hello?" Who would want to live in such a humid climate anyhow?  At least, it had a tactical advantage; they could appreciate that.  The smell of the ocean was not unpleasant either.  Still.  They were used to drier places, with fewer trees.  Hopefully, no one living here was claustrophobic; the jungle would be a nightmare come true.

#psychosocial.