Tiger Moon

She padded slowly through the dunes, eyes scanning the rolling gold of sand around her. She spotted the smudge of green in the distance, her landmark, and adjusted her course, tail and mane buffeting on a gust of breeze. The desert that edged her territories were as unforgiving in the cooling seasons as her own body was in its season.

She’d taken once more to dousing the vanilla and peppermint oil in her fur, blocking her natural calling card from the noses of males and others as best she could. It wasn’t fool-proof, but it sufficed. Ignoring her own cycle was rougher, but she managed. The outcome was a ceaseless restlessness, a need to keep moving, and a difficulty sleeping.

The result was that she logged a lot of hours patrolling, added to the routine she already had. Her mind never shut up these days, and she longed greatly for the relief of winter’s chill. Soon she would have to lead a bear hunt, and the distraction of her season was undesirable.

Her paws graced cool grass, yellowed with Autumn’s touch and the now nightly freezes. Winter was eager to come, and she wondered if they would see snow before the season even truly arrived.

The basin rippled and rustled under the fall breezes as the snow-white, shimmering wolf strode easily through the grasses, still scanning the land around her. The basin ended in sea a long, long trek to the west, and she pondered making the journey to the view—she could still easily be home before midnight if she hurried.

She gave in easily, and it was many hours later that found her on her way back, under a full moon, padding lightly over moonstruck desert dunes.

Some of her frustrations had eased—she’d run a great deal of the way, using up much of her excess energy. Perhaps in the long run, it would be a problem.

Actually, very abruptly, it was a big problem—the notion of trouble flashed through her mind as she suddenly danced ahead with a snarl and spun to face the hulking, striped form that had leapt from a shadow in the dunes, where the curve of the hill hid the face from the touch of the moon.

Aurielle was aware of a black form racing across the sands from the other direction, fury caterwauling in a mountain lion’s challenge, but she was far too involved with the tiger that had chosen to attack the Spirit of Valhalla while out on her own.

She barely hesitated in her attack, falling silent as she snaked forward and slashed at the huge cat as he—no she – bounded forward with powerful strides. Her canines ripped into the paw that swiped for her face, and as she clamped down, the force of the cat’s power staggered her from her paws, sending silver-touched gold sand spraying along with the blood from the cat.

Aelloshir hit the tiger in the back with a leap, hind claws ripping into the beast’s shoulders and neck, teeth sinking off-target into the cat’s loin. The pain shook the tigress into an unshakable fury as she ripped her paw free of the wolf’s canines.

Aurielle snarled a challenge as she prepared to launch in at the cat again.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think