the scent of prey has drawn her from the Saxe’s temporary base in the Sound and out into the Red Forest, her breath hovering in silvery clouds as she traipses through the frost-bitten morning. its an injured creature, leaving a trail of blood through the undergrowth and making Yarra’s mouth water at the thought of such easy prey. as she rounds a clump of trees she watches it come to a sudden halt and slump over, shuddering as a pool of scarlet gathers around its fallen body. rabbit. drool gathers about her chin, dripping from her mouth as she hurries forward. a dead rabbit out in the open is sure to draw other predators, and she’s eager to be the first to collect. unfortunately, she never gets that far: a snow leopard comes charging from the undergrowth, it’s chin and chest stained crimson with what is obviously the rabbit’s blood. no doubt it’d dealt the killing blow and has rushed to intercept its prize. stumbling backward a step, Yarra freezes as its great head swings in her direction, yellow eyes narrowing while it appraises her. a moment passes, then two. and then the leopard gives a low snarl and charges forward, claws slicing through the snowy ground. "Speech"

I can't destroy what isn't there

The Warlord had been hunting a snow leopard through the Red Forest. Its coat would make a wonderful prize, and one he intended to put away as a future gift. Warm, durable coats were valuable things in the cold North. The scent of blood led him along, and he knew the hunter was becoming the hunted.

As he reached the point where the leopard had brought down its prey, he would realise he wasn’t the only one here. A hint of red alerted him to the presence of a wolf, even as he trotted out of the sweeping overhang of a great Redwood. He was nearing the intercept point between the Snow Leopard and the wolf when it charged. Picking up his pace, the Warlord tore through the snow, and leaped forward, elbowing into the leopard and tossing it off its trajectory.

"Speech"

there’s a flash of movement, a blur of dark fur, and then a stranger is flinging themselves into the snow leopard’s path, using their momentum to knock it off course. it all happens so fast that it takes Yarra a few heartbeats to regain her bearings - precious few seconds that allow the leopard to recover from the shock of the initial blow. it shakes itself and releases a furious snarl, incensed at the dark man’s interruption. Yarra notices it tense it’s haunches, readying to pounce, and she rushes to distract it from her saviour. as it’s attention is fully on the man, Yarra is able to get close enough to land a blow on its haunches and dart out of range as the leopard whirls on her. now caught between two wolves, it looks from the stranger to Yarra and back again, ears flattened agonist it’s head as it calculates its next move. seizing the momentary reprieve, Yarra nods to the man in silent thanks for his arrival. if he hadn’t shown up…well, it doesn’t warrant thinking about. "Speech"

Sirius dug his paws into the earth and stopped his charging momentum. He stood still as he watched the Leopard rise. It was bruised and angry but didn't yet realise its danger. The red wolf charged as stood off with the Leopard, and landed a blow on its hunches. “Mind the coat” he growled, leaping forward and smacking the Leopard on the side of its head as it turned to the red wolf. The heavy blow concussed the creature without damaging the coat he sought to harvest.


He did feel a touch of amusement at her thanks. The colossal wolf had come because he hunted that which hunted her. The Leopard shook its head, trying to clear it as it took a step forward to leap at Yarra. The Warlord Leopard as well, landing hard on the lean body of the cat and crushing it to the earth. Wrapping a paw around its head, he pulled backwards and exposed its throat. “You can make the killing strike, if you wish”

the stranger is obviously a skilled fighter, for it takes him little time to subdue the leopard. Yarra can’t help but admire his strength and no-nonsense brutality, though a good mix of jealously is also present. she wants it for herself, the simple confidence that comes with such strength, with knowing oneself is virtually untouchable. all of this is swiftly eclipsed, however, by pure bloodlust when he bares the leopard’s throat. the fur there is thin and dove-soft, and her mouth waters at the thought of the blood and sinew pumping just below its fleshy surface, how it might feel beneath her claws, the warmth and iron tang as it bathes her pelt. practically shuddering with anticipation, the Saxe woman carves a brutal slash across the leopard’s throat, relishing the spill of scarlet that immediately gushes forth. it’s like a terrible red smile against the creature’s spotted fur, and it gapes wider by the minute. raising her paw again, Yarra delves her claws into the wound and carves deeper, scooping out a hunk of flesh. grinning near-manically, she lets the dead leopard slump to the ground and lifts her prize, studying it in the morning light. the pelt of the cat remains intact, despite its mutilated throat, and Yarra steps back to allow the man room to claim his own prize. eyes still locked on the bloody mound in her hand, a long pink tongue snakes out and laps at the carnage, staining her lips and tongue crimson. to be consumed, she thinks, is the ultimate humiliation for a creature who’d dared to attack a member of the Saxe clan. “might i know the name of my savior?” she inquires, smiling around scarlet-stained teeth. deranged thing that she is. "Speech"