--ONE MAN'S GARBAGE--

"Speech." ? ? ? Thought. ? ? ? 564.



An ominous blanket of clouds hung high above the ethereal beauty?s skull, shading her from the usual afternoon heat that the island had been experiencing due to the summer sun as she sauntered along the borderline of Tortuga?s territory, performing the ever-so tedious duty of both defining the exact boundaries and checking to see that none had dared to cross them. Her skull had descended from the typical stance it held level with her spine, her muzzle barely sweeping the grassy terrain as she stalked the perimeter of her domain like some bloodhound. Fortunately, the wench discovered that none had breached Tortuga?s lands, and as she made her way back to the tree she had raked her claws down as a marker to show where she had begun her round, a sound rather than aroma piqued her interest. It was a hoarse and painful grunting, and Morphine immediately recognized the call to belong to an elk. Her infamous smirk lifted her visage, skull elevating as her pupils searched her surroundings for the source of the noise, expecting to find her packmates tearing into a fresh carcass. Instead, she found nothing but vegetation, and she trotted off in pursuit of the kill as the distressed calls subsided.



Metallic eyes flashed in anger as she reached the scene to find an unfamiliar face that bore not the stench of Tortuga ripping his canines through the thick fur of the fallen beast, addressing another whom Morphine could not see. A single brow quirked as she questioned the behemoth, wondering whether or not his sanity had been completely drained since he appeared to be conversing with a creature his mind had conjured and seemed oblivious to the fact that he was feasting uncomfortably close to Tortuga?s borders. Aloof to the possibility that the male might have lost his senses, she trudged closer to the brute, the sluggish pace at which she maneuvered and her warrior-esque stance oozing trouble. The invader might have been larger than she and even daft, but Morphine did not allow either of those factors to deter her; he would be treated with the same mannerisms as any other foolish canine who dared hunt even near the borders she had clearly defined.



?No, I suppose I don?t expect you to eat that on your own,? she rasped coldly in response to the question he had offered his invisible friend, emerging from the shadows and stalking closer towards the brute, her shoulders rolling with every stride in a feline-esque manner. Her pupils never strayed from the male?s own as she walked a semi-circle about him, failing to recognize the creature that had perched himself in a tree beyond her vision and too focused on the criminal before her to register its scent. ?I do think, however, that you and your ? uh ? ?buddy? will not eat from that --? she inclined her muzzle in the direction of the male?s kill, ??at all.? Her body pivoted to face the direction of the male at the conclusion of her demand, bracing herself in case she had ignited a flame within the boy, and allowed the Cheshire grin to crack her countenance further. ?Capiche?? Sure, she could have granted the canine an explanation as to why he had been prohibited to dig into his kill, but utilizing an intimidating approach seemed to be a much more entertaining method.