She is beauty, she is grace; She’ll punch you in the face.

Azoula had been drawn to this thick jungle, infested with various vegetation, cloaked in a fog that spread across the forest floor like a poison gas… for one reason. It reminded her of home. And yet, there was an aura of hatred and sorrow, resonating from somewhere within the territory, leaving a bitter taste in the feline's mouth. Something delightfully awful had occurred here recently. Azoula was a firm believer in the concept of energy- and, the energy she felt in this jungle was thick, intoxicating, poisonous. And it sent a shockwave of thrill down her spine.

Drawn to it, much like a moth to a flame, the tigress moved through the jungle with predatory ease. Honing in on the source of rage, enthralled by the screams echoing in the distance. By the time she reached her destination, most of the tantrum had already transpired, leaving the small clearing in a mangled mess of despair. Dried blood decorated the forest floor, the trunks of the trees were mutilated, the scent of death heavy in the air... and in the middle of the dreary stage, was a wolf.

Azoula lingered in the shadows, observing the girl for a while. For such an angry woman, she was quite beautiful... which made the tigress more intrigued. What could bring such a gorgeous woman to her knees, she wondered? Moving from the shadows, entering the clearing. She moved with predatory ease, the motion of her shoulders heavy and exaggerated- characteristic of a jungle cat. “What a shame…” She crooned, voice soft and sultry- but it did little to hide the dangerous aura that shrouded her. “Beauty, turned into beast.” After she entered the wolf’s proximity, she would stop. “Whatever has left you so… disheveled, must have been powerful.”  Cocking her head slightly, as her eyes roved across the woman’s frame. Azoula expected an explanation from the stranger, and the hardened expression on her face was an attestation to that expectation.

"Azoula Davati"