Bellona
Beauty may be skin deep
But cruelty runs clear to the bone.

His shifting heart is in sync to her beating one, matching its rhythm and tempo with as much coordination as a pair of dancers. Lengthy stalks of plumage streak behind them as they dart through the island's leafy sea. Barred legs are swift as they tear up the Earth, parting the lush grasses with every determined stride that they take. Bright wings are pulled in as close they can to dyed ribs, not that the racing maiden is paying much attention to them in her haste. She is too distracted by her urgency to arrange her limbs properly, and the feathered appendages jut out behind her as she runs. What are wings compared to an assault by panicked worms? It is not a question that the bird deems worthy enough to answer.

The dull sound of hoof on grass morphs into the hollow clamber of weapon on soil. White-rimmed nostrils expand in contract with the effort of taking in air, and a dark brow furrows in concentration. The hybrid has only been running for a short while, but she is anxious to report her encounter with Kahlua to someone. It is not every day that one is burrowed into by worms, and the urgency at which they attempted such an act concerns her. Is there something on this island that they should be weary of? Is there something within it?

Unable to respond to her own musings, the bird reverts her attention to the task at hand: finding someone to report to. It is not an objective easily fulfilled, however, and the maiden is starting to question whether they are really the ones she should be looking for. Her leads have been absent for quite some time now, and it's not as if she trusts them enough to address her news with concern; they are too busy satisfying their own desires to consider the ones of their herd. A decisive snort sounds from the laboring peahen. She had expected so much from them but, as always, the only one she can trust is herself. Forget alerting her "leaders"; she'll figure this out for herself.

While his mother has been brooding over her traitorous acts, however, the spotted cub has been observing the scenery. Chocolate eyes take in the dying grass and the wilting blossoms as they speed by, but as soon as he spots the black hybrid he forgets all about the rest of the world. A bark meant to alert the bird ends up annoying her instead, and blue ears snap back against her skull in response. Instead of berating him, though, she actually pays heed to her boy.

Could this be the one in charge of our class, Mictla? The hyena shrugs his shoulders, unsure of how to respond. He knows that she has seen the damsel before, but he has never encountered her. No matter, boy. She'll listen to me regardless. The beauty slows to a trot so that she can catch her breath, approaching the winged unicorn with as much as confidence as if approaching a lifetime friend.

"You," she starts, her voice unnecessarily loud as she struggles to return to a normal breathing pattern. "You lead us, don't you? Not... Us, but the spies?" A blue crown swings back in annoyance. She is taking too long to explain things to her. Just get to the fucking point. "Whatever you are meant to be, yohualli, I have matters to discuss with you." Her tone lowers at this point, trying to force as much urgency in her words as she can to ensure she has the girl's attention.

"I have just come from a meeting with the Edge's Queen, and in the midst of our reunion we were attacked by the Earth's slaves. Worms. They tried to burrow in our flesh, to escape from some unseen enemy, and then suddenly, they were lost. Dead. All of them. Dead." A pink tongue darts out to lick sapphire lips. "What are we to make of nature going against its own unwritten laws? When have the fleshy pink toilers ever tried to dig into you?"

"Talk talk talk."