[open] spent all this time choking truth for lies; any

[sochi]

SOCHI

The frustration does not ease, it does not relent.

She feels knives in her throat, a constant ache in her bones, and the only way she knows how to get relief is in the hunt. She can lose herself in the chaos and the primal and when she slips into her tigress skin for the millionth time, she lets out a shaky breath she had not even realized that she had been holding. Her muscles are loose as she runs, as her paws eat up the earth in front of her. She is not hungry and while she has never been known for wasteful kills, that does not stop her from wanting to lose herself in the act itself. It is cruel, perhaps, but it is natural in its own way—and less destructive than she could be.

Sochi turns her attention to the forest, to the trees that twist and wind.

It is as much her home as anywhere else, now that she has left Loess for however long she is to leave. It calls to her in its shadows and she closes her eyes when she reaches its borders, ears flicking atop her head—searching for the things that she cannot see. The forest is alive beneath her and in front of her; teeming with life and possibility. She sinks her claws into the loam and purrs in the back of her throat, picking up on the various paths of creatures as they skitter, run, and stalk in front of her.

When she catches the sound of something heavier, something more sure-footed, she is drawn like gravity to the promise of it. She stalks low and quiet, whiskers twitching, until she is close enough to make out the shape of it—the scent that had previously been obscured by the others that flood her senses. It’s only then that she notices it is distinctly equine and it is a testament to her state of mind that she does not completely change her course, does not immediately dismiss the idea of it.

Instead she pauses, yellow eyes flashing in the shadows, contemplating.

she said a war ain't a war before both sides bleed