06-03-2015, 10:52 AM
“It’s just a Howler monkey. They’re big and black and too big for a fox to take on…” Lagertha had said and well, Vyx was just going to have to see about that, because the General had also told her, “besides, they don’t eat meat, they just interrupt our sleep. If you choose to stay you’ll get used to the noises. Took me awhile, but it’s all a lullaby now.” Vyx had been here for almost a month now and their noises were no fucking lullaby. They prowled their branches, haughty and loud in their nests high in the Brazil nut trees. Even in her horse form the meddlesome bastards still screamed and whooped at her as she slipped between the Jungle’s fronds and foliage, Vyx preferred to move amongst shadows and discretion – so she was no fan of these overgrown, piece of shit wailing tree rats.
But while they were clever and their size and numbers gave them equal ground, they were not more cunning than she. Most of them nested high in the treetops, too far for a fox of any breed to climb. Howler monkeys have strong familial ties, but like any group there are outcasts and those shunned to the bottom of the totems. Such was the case (or so she assumed) with the older female that chose to make her nest in the low-hanging boughs of a Chicle tree. Vyx had taken notice and had spent the last day treading back and forth beneath the path the wary monkey’s tree overlooked. Really, there was no reason for a monkey to fear a horse but the creatures of the Jungle knew better, they had to know better to survive here. Even still, after the first couple of trips the snooping primate’s suspicions lessened and this time she barely glanced down when Vyx ambled by – got you now, motherfucker.
The delicate-boned Arabian leapt into the air, shifting into a large black fox within the breath of a second. Jaws clamped down on the dangling arm of the lazing monkey, Vyx allowed her body weight to drag the screeching creature, nest and all, from the tree as she fell back down to earth. When they landed it was a scramble of black limbs, gnashing teeth and gargling sounds – the monkey tried desperately to bite and strangle the fox with its creepy human hands. But, alas, with a solid mouthful of throat and a last hard bite, the struggle was done and Vyx was more than pleased (which was evident to anyone watching in her bushy, wagging tail) as its last garbled cry bled into her mouth with warm success. But then the call came and even though she found its taste less than appetizing, she gulped down a few bites and jerked something free of the lumpy black body before bounding into the brush, tail switching and something dangling between her teeth. I has a present, I has a present, I has a present for you, you, you...
Vyx was late to the meeting, her quick eyes sliding over the queen as she spoke and then to the painted lion-mare but they did not settle until they laid across Lagertha’s armored frame. The black fox, still clutching her trophy in her slender jaws, skipped beneath a few mare’s belly’s to close the gap of space between the two. The fox bounded onto the mare’s iron grey flank before scuttling up to her withers and dropping the Howler monkey’s tail over her shoulder. A wide grin slid across her face as it plopped sickeningly to the ground right at Lagertha’s feet, “sorry I’m late, but I brought you a present.” She sprang from her shoulder so that she now faced Lagertha, tail switching dog-like behind her as if saying, see? See what I brought, just for you?
Her ears flicked attentively as mare’s pledged their allegiance and although those words did not pass her lips, she still harkened to Lagertha’s words. Vyx wasn’t yet willing to promise her young life to the Jungle, but perhaps in time that would come. For now, other things interested her – like the curve of Lagertha’s hard mouth as she barked direction and the talks of steals and challenges. Vyx was far too delicate for battle in either of her forms but stealth? That was something she could, sink her teeth into.
“I don’t know how good of a fighter I would make and tact is no quality of mine, but perhaps I can be useful in other ways.” She says, mostly to Lagertha and Rhy, as those were the only faces that she recognized, or would recognize her. “I am as slick as spilled oil,” she says, through glinting teeth and bloodied lips, and as slippery as it too.
But while they were clever and their size and numbers gave them equal ground, they were not more cunning than she. Most of them nested high in the treetops, too far for a fox of any breed to climb. Howler monkeys have strong familial ties, but like any group there are outcasts and those shunned to the bottom of the totems. Such was the case (or so she assumed) with the older female that chose to make her nest in the low-hanging boughs of a Chicle tree. Vyx had taken notice and had spent the last day treading back and forth beneath the path the wary monkey’s tree overlooked. Really, there was no reason for a monkey to fear a horse but the creatures of the Jungle knew better, they had to know better to survive here. Even still, after the first couple of trips the snooping primate’s suspicions lessened and this time she barely glanced down when Vyx ambled by – got you now, motherfucker.
The delicate-boned Arabian leapt into the air, shifting into a large black fox within the breath of a second. Jaws clamped down on the dangling arm of the lazing monkey, Vyx allowed her body weight to drag the screeching creature, nest and all, from the tree as she fell back down to earth. When they landed it was a scramble of black limbs, gnashing teeth and gargling sounds – the monkey tried desperately to bite and strangle the fox with its creepy human hands. But, alas, with a solid mouthful of throat and a last hard bite, the struggle was done and Vyx was more than pleased (which was evident to anyone watching in her bushy, wagging tail) as its last garbled cry bled into her mouth with warm success. But then the call came and even though she found its taste less than appetizing, she gulped down a few bites and jerked something free of the lumpy black body before bounding into the brush, tail switching and something dangling between her teeth. I has a present, I has a present, I has a present for you, you, you...
Vyx was late to the meeting, her quick eyes sliding over the queen as she spoke and then to the painted lion-mare but they did not settle until they laid across Lagertha’s armored frame. The black fox, still clutching her trophy in her slender jaws, skipped beneath a few mare’s belly’s to close the gap of space between the two. The fox bounded onto the mare’s iron grey flank before scuttling up to her withers and dropping the Howler monkey’s tail over her shoulder. A wide grin slid across her face as it plopped sickeningly to the ground right at Lagertha’s feet, “sorry I’m late, but I brought you a present.” She sprang from her shoulder so that she now faced Lagertha, tail switching dog-like behind her as if saying, see? See what I brought, just for you?
Her ears flicked attentively as mare’s pledged their allegiance and although those words did not pass her lips, she still harkened to Lagertha’s words. Vyx wasn’t yet willing to promise her young life to the Jungle, but perhaps in time that would come. For now, other things interested her – like the curve of Lagertha’s hard mouth as she barked direction and the talks of steals and challenges. Vyx was far too delicate for battle in either of her forms but stealth? That was something she could, sink her teeth into.
“I don’t know how good of a fighter I would make and tact is no quality of mine, but perhaps I can be useful in other ways.” She says, mostly to Lagertha and Rhy, as those were the only faces that she recognized, or would recognize her. “I am as slick as spilled oil,” she says, through glinting teeth and bloodied lips, and as slippery as it too.