[open] you're going home, you're rag and bone; any

[sochi]

there is a swelling storm and I'm caught up in the middle of it all
and it takes control of the person that I thought I was

The tiger does not feel guilty.

The words are a key to the shackles that have bound Sochi’s hands for as long as she can remember. She can feel them falling to the side, the weight of it lifting, leaving her feeling more alive and free than she can ever remember feeling. It leaves a laugh bubbling in her throat although the sound of it never crosses her serious lips. Instead, she simply thrills in the shift, feeling more at home in her tigress body than she ever has before, despite the relief she has always felt when she gave herself over to the feline predator.

When she watches the other shift, turning canine, something in her tightens and then rises to recognize it, her silver eyes sharpening. Nerves race through her at the sound of the wolf’s howl as it reverberates in Dayé’s throat, echoing through the forest—giving warning to the prey of their coming.

She begins to feel something in her throat that she has never let loose before, a growl that starts low and deep that then grows, her throat expanding to allow for it. The noise builds and builds before Sochi finally releases it, the roar powerful as it sends shockwaves through the forest. Her eyes light up, a freedom that she finally allows to sweep through and over her as she twitches her tail, chuffing lightly to the wolf.

Without further communication, she levels out her head and then begins to pad deeper into the forest, feeling the presence of the wolf as an unlikely and yet completely natural hunting companion. They move forward in silence, picking up the pace and falling more still, nose reaching down to sniff along the forest floor for hints of a prey worthy of their attention. It’s only when they see the herd of deer that Sochi stops, tilting her head toward Dayé as the only alert. Sochi pauses, muscles trembling in anticipation, waiting for the wolf to agree or disagree but the large ivory of her fangs already visible in the glinting of watery light.

sochi

it comes and goes in waves; it always does, it always does
we watch as our young hearts fade into the flood, into the flood

[Dayé]

when i run through the deep dark forest long after this has begun,

The sound of the tiger’s roar resonates in Dayé’s chest - the mere thrum of it pulsates like a living thing throughout the forest, and though the haunting howl of a wolf (and even when they echo in a chorus) stirs turmoil within prey's hearts, there is something entirely feral and fierce that clings to the hollows of Sochi’s voice, leaving the wolf to feel the natural prick of the fur rising on her neck. 

Heavy footfalls announce the tiger’s presence while the wolf clings to the shadow and darkness around them, flitting through bramble and brush and rock with keen eyes and sharp nostrils. The duo moves together as naturally as any two predators would, despite the huge gaps in their different species. The horse spirit within them allows this interaction, moving together seamlessly and effortlessly, all together wordlessly. 

Their movement awakens the once silent forest; small rodents and hares jump away from their presence, but they are not in search for small game. Dayé has other plans, other goals, for her hunt today that will for once not be solitary. It seems that the tiger has the same idea, because both of the hunters slow skillfully at the sudden scent of deer, lowering themselves and pausing with trembling anticipation. Dayé’s dark brown eyes immediately lock with the stag of the group, brilliant antlers protruding like never ending spires from his forehead. There is a soft huff, thoughtful and quiet. By herself she is no match for even the smallest and weakest doe, or even the fawns that are most likely hidden away in the brush of the forest. But with the tiger, her options have just now been widened. 

Sochi’s mass and bulk gives the tiger the obvious advantage at such an exploration, and with a curt nod towards her hunting partner, the wolf decides to lie in wait while the tiger makes the first move, poised and ready to take on whatever vulnerabilities the deer will present once taken by the feline.

Dayé

where the sun would set, trees are dead, and the rivers were none.

@[Sochi] basically sochi goes first cause she's the most powerful out of both of them, lol
and then daye will be there with the assist

[sochi]

there is a swelling storm and I'm caught up in the middle of it all
and it takes control of the person that I thought I was

This hunt is different than it has ever been before.

There’s an electricity running through her, lacing in her veins and drawing er further and further out into the forest. She has never hunted before with another. She’s never felt the camaraderie that’s born between a shared purpose, the way that you can communicate without language. They slow together and Sochi tilts her head at the wolf’s small huff. Her pink nose twitches and she quietly chuffs in return.

Why had she ever resisted this?

Sochi crouches down, her muscles buzzing with anticipation as she zeroes in on the stag. She has never gone after something this large before, never dared. She’d always stuck to smaller game. Not necessarily because she wasn’t capable of felling something this large, but rather because she couldn’t bear the guilt of it. She assuaged her guilt by going after smaller prey, feating on the bones of rabbits and squirrels, her predator’s stomach never quite satiated. Always in the middle of the night. Always alone.

Until now.

She leaps forward, powerful and quick, her pace quickly eating up the ground. The deer lift their head and sniff, freezing when they finally pick up the scent of both tiger and wolf. Immediately, they turn and begin to run away, their thin legs graceful and quick—but Sochi is fast and she is hungry. She cuts off the herd at the right angle, pushing off the forest ground to launch herself into the air, paws outstretched.

With a throaty growl, she latches onto the stag, teeth gripping onto its neck.

She is blind to the hunger that drives her. She acts entirely on instinct, grappling with the deer as he fights, as Daye fights with her. He writhes and she twists to get a better grip, back legs fighting to give her the advantage as she continues to snap out, getting purchase wherever she can. The blood flows thick and hot into her mouth as she finally snaps down and she shakes her head as the stag’s struggles slow. Something else erupts in her chest when she glances over the slack body to the wolf, but exactly what, she can’t say.

sochi

it comes and goes in waves; it always does, it always does
we watch as our young hearts fade into the flood, into the flood