Tiger Moon

Aurielle’s head came up, whipping around to stare at Rodgar as he said he was Amos’ brother. There was unmistakable hope in her eyes that faded as he said he hadn’t seen Amos since their father’s death.

She didn’t miss his reluctance to look at the tigress, and she understood—perhaps he was more inclined toward peace. However, she knew that the cat had attacked with intent to kill her. To hunt her. The huge cat would not have stopped until one of them died.

At Rodgar’s question, she sighed, rolling the hide and pawing the last of the sand into place over the fresh grave. It was pointless to mark the resting place—the sand was ever-shifting and would erase the evidence of this battle in a matter of hours.

“He’s… he was my best friend. But I haven’t seen him in a long time, now. At this point, all I can do is hope he’s alive and will come back someday. But I do miss him.”

Her eyes met his and she said bluntly, “I can tell you aren’t comfortable with my killing of the tigress. Believe me, if I had the option, I would have let her live. But I knew she would not back down, and I will not die out here and leave my pack leaderless. Should I waste her? Let her rot? This way, she will at least live on in some way. Whatever you must be thinking, I do not enjoy killing my fellow predators. Especially not the cats.”

There was no defensiveness in her tone, only simple wisdom and a faint tiredness—after all, she’d run for several hours with little rest, mostly to escape the infuriating drive of her season, only to be set upon by a big cat and a mountain lion.

A sigh escaped her as she glanced down at herself, before adding, “I am Aurielle Adravendi, Spirit of Valhalla.”

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