07-27-2016, 06:13 PM
the dead are gone, and the living are hungry.
It doesn’t feel like anything has changed. Since Lagertha’s disappearance, life in the Jungle has moved on uneventfully. It’s a relief, in someway. While she misses Lagertha’s presence (how on earth is she supposed to steer this kingdom without the old battleaxe?), it is comforting in a way. They will have quiet for some time. Peace. The faeries have made their displeasure with the warmongers known - have stricken a blow at the heart of each kingdom’s power. It will be a little while before any of the other rulers decide to bring out the drums of war again. Not forever of course, but a while.
But it does mean that she will have time to collect herself, and become used to her new position. One duty of which includes patrolling.
She’s been up since early morning, tracing the borders that she used to explore so much in her youth. It’s a mostly uneventful trip, filled with the cries of howlers and parrots, and the occasional inquisitive glance from a capybara or jungle cat. But as she’s rounding the northern border for the second time, a powerful stench hits her nose with a vengeance. “Agh!” She mutters under her breath and shakes her head, trying to rid the scent from her nostrils. It smells like … death. Like something long, long dead. Normally that wouldn’t be unusual in the Jungle - the cats leave often leave their half finished prey to rot - but the scent had not been there on her first round of the border. A soft call only peaks her interest.
She’s loathe to grow closer to the smell, but she follows it all the same and comes out into the trees. Riva is already there, facing a rather striking black mare with white mane and tail and sky blue markings. It unfortunately becomes quickly apparent that the mare is the one that smells so much of death.
She steps up to Riva’s side, nodding in greeting to the paint mare. She does not know the sister well, not yet, but she does already know that she appreciates the mare’s blunt and discerning manner. Her eyes return to the newcomer, taking a moment to scrutinize. Ah … she recognizes the scent now. The beach. The girl smells of the damnable beach. Lives there too, judging by the strength of the smell. What an odd thing. “Hello. What brings you to the Jungle?”
But it does mean that she will have time to collect herself, and become used to her new position. One duty of which includes patrolling.
She’s been up since early morning, tracing the borders that she used to explore so much in her youth. It’s a mostly uneventful trip, filled with the cries of howlers and parrots, and the occasional inquisitive glance from a capybara or jungle cat. But as she’s rounding the northern border for the second time, a powerful stench hits her nose with a vengeance. “Agh!” She mutters under her breath and shakes her head, trying to rid the scent from her nostrils. It smells like … death. Like something long, long dead. Normally that wouldn’t be unusual in the Jungle - the cats leave often leave their half finished prey to rot - but the scent had not been there on her first round of the border. A soft call only peaks her interest.
She’s loathe to grow closer to the smell, but she follows it all the same and comes out into the trees. Riva is already there, facing a rather striking black mare with white mane and tail and sky blue markings. It unfortunately becomes quickly apparent that the mare is the one that smells so much of death.
She steps up to Riva’s side, nodding in greeting to the paint mare. She does not know the sister well, not yet, but she does already know that she appreciates the mare’s blunt and discerning manner. Her eyes return to the newcomer, taking a moment to scrutinize. Ah … she recognizes the scent now. The beach. The girl smells of the damnable beach. Lives there too, judging by the strength of the smell. What an odd thing. “Hello. What brings you to the Jungle?”
lexa