"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
A small, shimmering butterfly flits past the border to the Jungle and in an instant it is gone. If anyone were watching it closely, they would have to have eyesight even better than an eagle’s to see the nearly microscopic mosquito that took its place, buzzing annoyingly deeper into the kingdom of women. The shapeshifting insect is no spy, for sure, but all the same she feels uneasy as she delves deeper into the trees. A bug is not the best camouflage; she could be swatted aside or eaten by a bird. Perhaps something larger, something carnivorous would be better suited, at least until she runs across another horse?
The blink of an eye and the mosquito with a rim of glitter is replaced by a jaguar clutching the trees tens of feet above the ground, rosettes of glitter about her neck. She scans the horizon silently, but as of yet there are no horses nearby. She is anxious, but if you were to ask her she wouldn’t really know how to explain it. Perhaps it is just nerves that have set her stomach to rolling. She hasn’t tried to join a kingdom before, especially not one as famed as the all-mare kingdom.
But what does she have to fear? She is a shifter, all powerful and unstoppable. She scales the tree effortlessly and drops to the Jungle floor, all long legs and golden fur. There is very little light and even less undergrowth—even though she is hardly a few hundred feet amid the jungle’s trees—but it seems she is still alone, at least for now. But then again, there are not many who are eager to disturb a jaguar in its most natural habitat of all.
With a sigh, she sheds her skin. A young mare, a medley of breeds, now stands in the jungle cat’s place. She is definitely an interesting sight, all dark brown with pink spreading over her back and withers. Instead of white socks, hers are pink, ending in bay points. Pink tobiano, a color expert would say, but she just calls herself different. Add the sparkles to her mane and she just grumbles. It’s bad enough that she stays sparkly when she shifts.
Now the lurkers can come out to play, at least. A horse is a lot more harmless than a jaguar.
Today, as she did often, she sat quietly among the trees. There was much that you could learn from quiet observation, especially when others did not know of your existence. It was one of few traits Malka was glad to have acquired during her lifetime - if nothing more than for the fact that it gave her some solitude any time she needed it. There were very few high intelligent creatures that could reach the heights the Malka preferred to perch at.
As she sat, preening her colorful feathers and occasionally hopping from branch to branch, a creature soon caught her eye. At first, Malka hadn't even seen her there and for a moment she wonders if maybe her own mind was playing tricks on her. A large jaguar wasn't something she would normally just overlook, but she stays where she's at, head cocked curiously to one side as she puffs her chest and gives body a quick shake. There was something about the large cat that drew her attention and it was quite a moment before Malka could figure out what that was. The thing glittered! Jaguars, at least since the last time she had lived in the Jungle, didn't glittered. It had been almost a decade since her last venture here and maybe more things than she realized had changed while she was gone.
She keeps an eye on the jaguar as it slips down the tree trunk with a practiced glide before landing quietly on the jungle floor. Curiosity piqued, she flits closer down to continue to watch the strange glittery cat. It was than that the cat became a horse - a strange looking a horse, but a horse nonetheless. A surprised squawk slipped from her beak as she burst up in the Jungle above. She flew a short distance away before quickly landing on the ground and herself returning to her natural form. She wasn't sure if the glittery cat-mare had followed her or not, but she turns to walk back to where she had last seen the shifter.
It does not take Malka long to come back across the pink, glittery paint mare and a small smile slips across her lips. "Greetings, there," she says the the mare with a quick bob of her head. "I'm Malka. Who might you be?" she adds shortly after. Having been gone so long, Malka knows not if this mare is a current sister, visitor or some combination of the both (like she currently considered herself). She is quiet though as she waits for the colorful one to respond back to her. She knew not yet if the other mare had seen her return from Quetzal form, but it was one advantage they both had here in the Jungle was that they could go with forms that were native and very easily overlooked unless you knew what (or who) exactly you were looking for.
She’s tracking her sister on this particular morning, following the silly mare’s trail as it twists and turns towards the border. She hasn't spoken with Larken since their last … conversation, when Larken had finally spilled the beans on her new pregnancy, and Lexa thinks it’s high time they had a follow up. Larken is, unfortunately, not the most responsible of creatures. And though it’s still early yet, Lexa is already starting to have concerns about the wellbeing of her sister’s unborn child.
But, apparently that will have to wait.
As she draws nearer to the northern reaches of the kingdom, a distinctly foreign scent catches her attention. It’s well within the border, so it draws her concern as well and she instantly sets out to track down the source, Larken completely forgotten.
After a few minutes she bursts out into a clearing … and there the stranger is. She’s pleased to note that the intruder has already been discovered by another sister, a more recent addition by the name of Malka. She nods pleasantly to the painted mare in greeting, before fixing her brown eyes upon the newcomer. And what a sight that newcomer is.
It’s a young mare, covered with a mix of brown and bright pink, and a mane that sparkles in the rays of light trickling from the canopy above. How odd. Lexa has seen pink before, but sparkles? That’s a new one.
Interesting appearance aside however, this mare is a stranger, and she has shown no regard for their borders. Lexa will give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she did not know … for now. “It’s considered impolite to cross the border without waiting for an escort. What brings you to the Jungle?”
