Under the Cypress Trees

*Tahlia* · 08-22-2013, 08:43 PM

Walk | Talk | Think

No wonder mere eye contact sent rabbits skittering for cover even when she had no intent of following. If the gaze she gave them was anything like the one she was receiving from the feline before her, it made absolute sense. Everything within her urged her to flee, to take cover, to seek help from someone else, to at least try and reach the borders of Seracia before this beast could catch her.

But it was too late. It was well past the point of running. In fact, Tahlia was not so sure anymore that she had ever been safe. He had been so close from the start, always only a leap away, and he very well could have ended their game the moment he decided to slip off of his perch above her. There was nothing more she could do except perhaps play along and pray that he might take pity on her or, less likely she wagered by the looks he had so far given, find little interest in her.

She hated the feeling he gave her as his hungry eyes roamed across her frame, causing her heart beat to speed uselessly inside her chest. Each muscle in her frame felt tense, ready to defend itself should he make a move, as hopeless as it might have been. And because there was so little she could actually do, because her fate was completely and utterly out of her hands, Tahlia got mad. It was no help that he continued to speak to her in his foreign tongue, each of those words going right over her head, or that he chose then, when she still fought the urge to fidget and cringe from his very presence, to circle slowly around her, as if assessing a prime kill for the perfect place to begin the feast.

As much as she wanted to follow him with her eyes as he began that circle, she held still with a glower set upon her face, letting his words float over her first understandably and then not. She bristled slightly as he once again reverted to that language she could not comprehend, and did so more noticeably with an added growl, teeth bared, as he dared to inch closer as if to touch her left shoulder. "I do not even let males of my species touch me unless I approve of it," she stated with empty warning through the rumble of her own growl, the hairs upon the back of her neck raised once again as she made a minute turn of her shoulders, as if to draw it slightly away from the cat's heavily whiskered muzzle.

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