we'll never get free, lamb to the slaughter
She’s dozing, peacefully, when the sudden sound in the jungle rouses her.
Squawk!
The tigress is loath to come to full consciousness, as warm and cozy as she is, so she doesn’t. There will be plenty of time and opportunity to catch an obnoxious parrot or two later. Later, much later perhaps, when she’s had her fill of the sun’s full splendor. For now, she blanks her mind of anything but the sound of the shore being kissed by the teasing waves that crash along it. She allows her troubles to be carried out to sea, one-by-one, on each receding wave until there is nothing left to worry about.
There is only the press of her body into the sand, a gentle acceptance that she’s found a soft place to land - at least for now.
Titanya stays like this until there is another sound that pulls her attention towards the jungle. This one is undeniable. And though she’d been unmovable before, now the low, feline growl has her scrambling to her feet in haste. The chase is on.
The beach quickly gives way to thick jungle just beyond, and the tiger ducks her head against the wide leaves that form a weak blockade between the two spaces. Once through, she sees a flash of orange and black ahead of her for a moment before the jungle swallows her quarry. She takes just a moment to look around admiringly, in no true hurry to catch up to Halcyon right away. It is a game, after all. Tropical trees fat with humidity and rich soil box her in tightly, blocking out much of the light that filters down weakly from above. It smells dark and heavy and earthy, her whiskers twitch frantically as she breathes it all in. The tiger approves mightily of the place she’s landed.
With a content whuff, Titanya moves out again. The ground hardens the further away from the ocean she gets, and it becomes easier to propel herself forward through the trees. She pays no mind to the underbrush as it batters against her striped sides, sticking burrs and thorns to her in equal measure. Halcyon is just ahead of her, she thinks, or tells herself anyway, motivating her movements. But the tiger isn’t built for prolonged fits of high speed. She follows his scent trail for as long as she can at her breakneck pace, but her swim across the channel catches up to her after a while.
Slowing down, she pads over the littered forest floor, trying for the element of surprise instead. Is he behind this mossy, fallen log? Her tail twitches in anticipation behind her. She tenses her muscles, preparing to launch herself over it and onto her prey.
what you gon' do when there's blood in the water?
@[Halcyon]: