06-26-2017, 10:49 PM
With the chill in the wind, Mafdet prefers her smaller form. Heavily furred, with broad paws that grip the branch below her, the female looks down at the field below her. Only her tail is moving - a quick peach twitch now and again. The motion is bright against her plush snowy coat, and is signals that while she is keeping a careful watch she is not truly hunting.
A creature her size is plenty satiated by the prey of the open meadow. The field mice and plethora of birds provide a varied and bountiful diet; Mafdet has never considered leaving this place. She's been here since she first found Beqanna after all; why leave paradise.
For the most part she ignores the horses. From time to time she wears her equine skin, but it is only when she absolutely must. That shape is weak and fragile compared to the impressive brawn of the mixed breeds that populate Beqanna. Here, in this shape, she is powerful; muscular, broad shouldered with sharp claws and needles for teeth.
Today is no different; the bumbling herbivores are utterly boring. Her blue eyes are watching the quivering grass instead, but the source of the intriguing motion is easily discarded at the low sound. Mafdet chuffs back without thinking about it, dropping down to the ground in a single fluid motion. Once there she crouches low, suddenly cautious.
Who had that been?
Why are they in her field?
She lets out a single curious 'mew' before inching forward to peer over the low edge of a fallen log in search of the strangers.
A creature her size is plenty satiated by the prey of the open meadow. The field mice and plethora of birds provide a varied and bountiful diet; Mafdet has never considered leaving this place. She's been here since she first found Beqanna after all; why leave paradise.
For the most part she ignores the horses. From time to time she wears her equine skin, but it is only when she absolutely must. That shape is weak and fragile compared to the impressive brawn of the mixed breeds that populate Beqanna. Here, in this shape, she is powerful; muscular, broad shouldered with sharp claws and needles for teeth.
Today is no different; the bumbling herbivores are utterly boring. Her blue eyes are watching the quivering grass instead, but the source of the intriguing motion is easily discarded at the low sound. Mafdet chuffs back without thinking about it, dropping down to the ground in a single fluid motion. Once there she crouches low, suddenly cautious.
Who had that been?
Why are they in her field?
She lets out a single curious 'mew' before inching forward to peer over the low edge of a fallen log in search of the strangers.