08-24-2018, 09:51 PM
♦ -- Exodus was the first to spot Kirishama. Drawn by the scent of blood like a shark to crimson laced waters. Her sense of smell was a formidable thing, and her nostrils flared as she waddled forward on tiny limbs.
He had been left not too far from her family's nest. Her gait was all too eager; much too frenzied with the prospect of a larger meal. Kirishama had named her; she had wrapped her jaws around his leg once, when she was young and freshly born.
But the faces of those who were not of her pack did not mean anything to her.
She dipped under the folds of garangutan leaves and nearly tripped over fallen twigs and branches. The jungle sang wirh humidity and warmth, and the press of dirt underfoot was far more than comforting.
And there was blood. So much blood.
It soaked into the ground, the maned wolf lying limp and prone. She stepped around him cautiously at first; tasting the air and wondering who had done this to this alien. Would they come back for their prey?
But there was no other underlying scent other than hers, and his own.
Tensed, nostrils flexing with contemplation, Exodus juggled her options. To eat or not to eat?
She eventually made her decision. Should the attacker return, she would deal with them herself (Her mind was filled with grandiose thoughts, bold and haughty; believing she could take on the world. And that included on dominating any other predator that might come strolling by)
Maw agape, a tentative tongue came to lap at the blood that spilled forth from his leg like a spring of water. The wound was infected; written and unpleasant. Not good, but the salty tang of blood was more than enough to keep her satisfied; her stomach rumbled with hunger, and the striker attempted to clamp her jaws into the soft flesh and fur of his haunch. Testing if he was truly as near death as he seemed. Waiting to see if his reflexes would fail him. If anything, eating food would be made more difficult should she choose to feast with prey still addled with an ounce of fight left within them. She could not think of anything else; not of love or compassion, only a fiendish hunger and sense of triumph at her find.
// sjdjid have this shitty post and feel free to distract her or stop her from trying to eat him
He had been left not too far from her family's nest. Her gait was all too eager; much too frenzied with the prospect of a larger meal. Kirishama had named her; she had wrapped her jaws around his leg once, when she was young and freshly born.
But the faces of those who were not of her pack did not mean anything to her.
She dipped under the folds of garangutan leaves and nearly tripped over fallen twigs and branches. The jungle sang wirh humidity and warmth, and the press of dirt underfoot was far more than comforting.
And there was blood. So much blood.
It soaked into the ground, the maned wolf lying limp and prone. She stepped around him cautiously at first; tasting the air and wondering who had done this to this alien. Would they come back for their prey?
But there was no other underlying scent other than hers, and his own.
Tensed, nostrils flexing with contemplation, Exodus juggled her options. To eat or not to eat?
She eventually made her decision. Should the attacker return, she would deal with them herself (Her mind was filled with grandiose thoughts, bold and haughty; believing she could take on the world. And that included on dominating any other predator that might come strolling by)
Maw agape, a tentative tongue came to lap at the blood that spilled forth from his leg like a spring of water. The wound was infected; written and unpleasant. Not good, but the salty tang of blood was more than enough to keep her satisfied; her stomach rumbled with hunger, and the striker attempted to clamp her jaws into the soft flesh and fur of his haunch. Testing if he was truly as near death as he seemed. Waiting to see if his reflexes would fail him. If anything, eating food would be made more difficult should she choose to feast with prey still addled with an ounce of fight left within them. She could not think of anything else; not of love or compassion, only a fiendish hunger and sense of triumph at her find.
// sjdjid have this shitty post and feel free to distract her or stop her from trying to eat him
im like a bull in a china shop
knocking off a knock off .
"cause i got no culture of mine" — exodus — typhoon — feathered raptor — info