the hills have eyes.

She'd slowly been able to regain focus, after a while. The thoughts of death and fascination with it had taken its sweet little time to filter through the reservoirs of her conscience but by the time it had taken its leave it had left in its wake an odd impact. The insatiable itch for blood still lurked in her toes and no amount of scraping the rounded digits across the ground while she walked made it go away. One would think that the gal would be used to the feeling that had plagued her since she had won leadership of Ludicael in a small bracket of battles for the pack's ownership, but one who entertained this opinion was far from correct. It was relentless. Suffering from thirst but never dying, only pleading for blood and being sated only for a short while once it greedily drank of it. As she'd been soaked in the crimson of Kaios' massacred throat it had lessened. But never had it disappeared.

Celestial optics focused on the two figures on the battlefield, neither immediately familiar. Posture straightened and curiosity piqued as they seemed to be initiating a spar. As she drew more near, still dismal in her placement, she couldn't suppress the furrow of her brows as a single figure did indeed begin to hold a familiarity in her memory. The dark brute of partially alabaster tones held an oddly-colored sheen upon his pelt drew back memories from the death match and she realized that the last time she'd seen the beast, he'd been much smaller. And sitting by his mother, Newt. Watching Jupiter kill his father.

The queen did no pause until she was a good ten yards away, eyes narrowed as she settled carefully onto her haunches, muscles taught and coiled, refraining to allow herself to get comfortable. The spar began and she kept her attention especially on the darker yearling, attentively observing his movements and cataloging his technique into the depths of her memory. He was nearly as large as she, only two or three inches shorter, and would undoubtedly grow to rival or match his mother or father's size. She scoffed within the private confines of her mind as she thought of the young creature's ego growing with his size as his father's probably did, and could only fervently hope that the child turned out to be nothing like his sire.

A girl could dream, couldn't she?

"speech"