DONAI
The Leopard
I’m pretty sure this is the place. Calm grassy forests cloaking the foothills with shadows and deceptive friendliness. The colors of burning fire painted the trees with orange, yellows, and reds littering the skies and the ground with a fiery of colors. The colors were vibrant and comforting to me, but they did nothing to dampen the numbing chills that soaked into my skin as the temperature dropped and the irritating moisture from the misty rain coming over the valley on this day. I barely made a sound as the wet grass and leaves flopped to my paws will, none the less it irritated me enough to pick up my feet with each step as if I were walking on hot coal. In my jaws I carried the now badly rotting carcass of the bird I’d killed a while ago, maggots dropped from the inside of the carcass as though the insects were protesting my yearn to keep the thing. Rotting as it were, the pristine blue and green feathers still dazzled in any hint of light and I simply could not leave the bird behind. My attempts are becoming more futile though, as the dead flesh from the bird began to release the feathers one by one over time. Every now and then I would look back to see one more feather has fallen from my prized bird and a sadness would linger.
I was looking for the two stone-feet I’d met up with in the threshold, not easy to do when their scent is dissolved in the rain. But I did stumble on a collection of trails meandering through the trees, the only reason I believed they belonged to the particular stone-feet I’m looking for is the distinguishable crescent shaped tracks my quarry has left behind in the mud. Coming up on the next tree closest to the trail I brushed fiercely against the tree first with my cheek followed by the rest of my body as I passed, leaving a trail of my own, the smell of leopard on the trees of the foothills. My hope was that should Circe or Apollo come across my smell they’d go about looking for me. Not that I truly needed their assistance but they did mention there was food here, and it would be much better if someone such as… me… were introduced to this family of theirs in the company of one of my recruiters.
This walk was becoming increasingly difficult as the cold and rain was beginning to eat at me. I’ve never been so cold in my life, and I didn’t have the thick mane of a lion either, my coat is short and fine as it always has been.
Coming up on a relatively large tree I paced circles around the tree, rubbing myself against the bark of the tree before curling up under the leaning side of the tree to shelter myself from the rain, setting the bird carcass at my feet. I’m going to have to do something about coping with this cold, I could be in trouble if I don’t.
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| Windtossed Foothills Warrior |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 41 months |
| Adoptable |
Lev Fence</style>♥Fence's mother once told him to never trust a cat.
He remembers it only faintly, just as faded as if it were his own name, but the image of her standing there, her coat a shimmering onyx and her eyes a delicate green, was not forgotten. The wildcat wants nothing from you but the flesh on your bones, son, she had told him in soothing tones as she nudged him to his feet after a fall. Should you see one in your travels, my little adventurer, I beg you stay away.
But as comforting as the memory was, as clear as it was burning in his shadowed mind, he disobeyed her words with the ease of a step forward. His body, now fully healed and recovered, had begun to bulk and thicken in preparation for the winter cold. He looked strong and confident, even if not terribly certain of where he was. His mind failed him on such strange matters lately; it had become a hassle to navigate this new wood. Some days he would begin to walk through it if it were the mystic woodlands and attempt to call upon the power to bend the trees his herd had once, long ago, been blessed with. But this was not the Mystic Woodland forest.
And so with each passing step through the Foothills, he discovered something new. But the sight of the leopard took him by surprise. He snorted, as if understanding the danger, but then foolishly drew close. She seemed tired there beneath the tree, huddled from the mizzle and carrying close to her a carcass. Though Fence's nose wrinkled at the dead scent, and though he cringed at the wet soil which was surely creeping onto her coat, he mustered the tolerance to ignore the filth of her.
Why? Well, she looked helpless. And above all she looked scared, and alone. Cat or not, Fence had never been one to deny a lady aid. Even dotted with scars and haunted by the memory of Isilme's destruction, he remembered his manners. "May I help you, miss?" He asked of her, his tones echoing a sweet and kindly tenor. He stood tall above her, but lowered his gray-tipped muzzle closer to the ground where she rested. With a nicker, he lifted his marked leg from the muddy earth and flicked his quickly dampening, loose tail. She may have been filthy, but he wasn't about to let himself get covered in dirt.
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DONAI
The Leopard
My time waiting under the tree wasn’t too long before the smell of dinner began to fume through the area with strength. I took a few short whiffs of the air, my eyes scanning for the approaching stranger. My ears rotating to detect the faint footfalls of hooves in the grass.
His white body weaved through the trees like a ghost against the cloudy sky and bold red leaves raining down from the trees. His very presence was a mystery to me but he seemed more wary of me than I was of him. All in good sense though, he need only be another foot or so smaller and he’d be sizeable prey. But the shock of his great size was enough to keep me curled up in a corner, paired up with his outstanding posture of confidence he looked fit, strong, and bold enough to approach me. Though I can’t entirely understand why these stone-feet insist on sticking their faces in mine, they smell tasty enough as it is when they’re feet away.
His words caught me off guard for a moment as he refered to me as ”miss”, again I felt welcomed, like a knight in shining white armor he inspected my situation with intent to help. Their confidence and nobility, they were more than the peasants back in my homeland who trembled under the shadows of the mighty sharp-toothed kings that ruled there. I was beginning to grow a healthy respect for them.
In my relaxed state my eyes sagged, half closing as our eyes met, presenting to him my laid-back condition. But I wasn’t about to hide my intentions, letting the shimmering blue carcass rest on the ground I stood up, allowing him see the extent of my starvation. ”I’m Donai,” I spoke softly to him ”I-I’m new here. I’m a recruit.” I felt unsettled to tell him I was new, for all I knew he was the commando officer in charge, and despite my calm demeanor I truthfully had little energy to waste in a fight for my life.
”I’m hungry.” I stated ”Circe told me I would be able to find food here?”
I patiently took a step towards him, my tail lifting to erection in my outwardly comfort in the creature’s presence. When my sight drifted past his soft velvety nose to his intensely bulk shoulders, only then did I see the glittering dappled spots contrasting from the gray blue which tinted the darker shades of his fur. Hypnotized by the beauty of his coat I lifted my massive paw I delicately brushed his shoulder in the peculiar objective to see one of those spots rub off his coat, ”You’ve got a little something—“ When I realized the spot was fixed to his fur I promptly removed my paw in embarrassment, ”Oh! I-I’m sorry!”
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| Windtossed Foothills Warrior |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 41 months |
| Adoptable |
Lev Fence</style>♥Her starved state became apparent to him in an instant. When she stood, the dim light seemed to catch on every indentation of her coat. Her ribs seemed to jut out intensely as if they were carved by a hastened hand; her sagging eyes seemed the mark of an exhaustion that the stallion was all too familiar with. He drew closer, captivated by her shockingly delicate demeanor and the curious tone of her feminine, feline voice. So she was new as well, was she? He pulled back his head, lifting his features so that he could better take in hers. His blue eyes travelled along the edge of the shadow he cast in the haze and over her smaller form. He caught sight of the carcass now which gave off such a stench—noted its shimmering blue coated with oils of decomposition and stained with the scent of its own blood. His nostrils flared with distaste, but he said nothing of his disgust. Perhaps to her his braided mane and cleanliness was unappealing.
No, he doubted that. With a faint snort, he pushed the scent of wet cat and dead bird from his senses and exhaled heavily. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Donai. I was beginning to wonder if I was the only new recruit in these woods," he commented with a slight upturn of his lips. "I'm no hunter, but I'm sure there is food to be found here somewhere," he added absentmindedly, forgetting to include his own name. He was too focused on her role and how well it matched with his own; that, and the name of the other member of the foothills who he'd apparently never met. Circe? Who was she, someone important? He sighed slightly, feeling once again as if he did not belong in this herd. He could only hope that feeling would fade. It was comforting to know that he was not alone in it, however. Perhaps the two would get along well.
But then, as kind as she had been, he saw her shift her balance and move to touch him. His daggers struck the melting ground nervously and he shifted backwards. Perhaps, friendly as she was, she was just a bit too curious. But just as she was, apparently, friendly, he was polite. He stiffened as she drew so close, suddenly frozen and unable to move. He watched her actions play out in a state of primal fear and thinly veiled distaste. The only mark on his coat had been that of a scar— it alone had been enough to put him at ill ease about his neat appearance. As she withdrew her powerful paw, he arced his neck to look at what she had done. The muddy pawprint upon his shoulder sent a shiver through him that was from anything but the rain. He exhaled rapidly, feeling tense and uncomfortable with the sudden marring of his appearance. But there was no way to fix it now; he could only watch out of the corner of his eye as the rain spattered against his once pristine white coat and smudged the mud-print upon his shoulder.
Through gritted teeth, he spoke. He was too polite to mention the mark, he only hoped she would realize how uncomfortable it had made him. "Oh, it's nothing," he lied stiffly, betraying his true opinions as he backed away from her. The carcass' stench still haunted him, still reminded him. He shook himself, partly following the shivering twitches that came from the cold and the rain, and partly hoping the dirty smudge might simply disappear. "Come, Donai, let's find you something to eat. There should be plenty of fish in the river," he suggested. He leaned forward to nudge her congenially, but then thought better of it. Friendly as he was, she was still a dirt-covered cat.
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