until the end

that's where we begin

A place of danger, but it brought her an unhealthy fascination, a craving desire to test the gods and dare on the impossible. She slid along quietly, a wraith in the cooling snows, her paws leaving delicate pinpricks of reminders that she had been there. Caution was thrown to the wind, the danger of the narrow pass ignored as she progressed onwards along the steep slope, shimmying between the suffocating walls that tempted to grant her a sense of claustrophobia. She smirked, an idle tug of her lips as they pulled upwards though it was not a smile that showed pleasure, and only mimicked at the idea of happiness, her mind a mass of tumultuous thoughts that she pushed further away with each daring step.

~*~ There was no sound. There was no scent. There was no warning. The snowleopard, in true mountain cat form had spotted her prey over two hours back and had made a painstaking circle, through pines trees, past newly thawed creekbeds, over fallen timbers, and finally up the mountainside to finally settle herself in a spot of perfect ambush. The trail had even led her through enough juniper bushes to mask her scent a little. Add that to the fact that she was downwind, and everything was ready. It was a time tested design that cats had managed to calculate for ages. The deer would have no idea what hit it. It was a single, roving doe ? so no horns to bend back and stab. It was warrier than most since it was on it?s own, but that didn?t matter. The game trail it was walking along idlly, would bring it to past the snow leopard?s rock. There was even a nice little berry bush that seemed to have planted itself there for the sole purpose of bait. But though the deer came, though the she-leopard's haunches tensed with anticipation and her jaws practically tasted the neck that was coming, it was not to be. A new scent came on the wind. Wolf. In a second it was all ruined. The doe spurted forward through the pass quick as the wind. The leopard's eyes blazed. She had only a shred of self control to last her until the white prey-stealer was in place below her - and then she pounced! Giant silver paws went straight down in a fall, catching herself on the narrowest of ledges as if by magic- but her teeth were already shooting for the scruff. Growls would be muffled by fur, and should she get her hold, the next moment, she would be raising it back up, turning and realing it back up to her perch just as she had planned to do with the deer. Such things were impossible for canines but easy for her species. Likes flies and spiders. ~*~

until the end

that's where we begin

Oblivious, she a hopeless fool who knew naught of the consequences. She had not seen the deer, though its scent was easy to detect on the wind, and it was only the rustle of thudding hooves that alerted her to movement, brows arching, ears twisting. She had not been on the hunt and did not pursue, continuing along her trail and blind to the dangers from above, and by the time she recognized an assault, it was too late to dodge the onslaught and she snarled at the feel of teeth digging into her scruff. Her reaction was immediate as her figure twisted harshly, seeking to twist over onto the earth in her hopes of dragging the predator from its perch and slamming the brunt force of her shoulder blade into it. If it wanted to make a meal of her, it was going to have a damned hard time doing so.

~*~ The wolf squirmed, of course she did, the white fae buckled and snarled and tried to roll downward to get away, but in terms of size and ability it was a hopeless cause. If she'd had full range of motion to escape with maybe, but this was a trap. Silverback already had her off her paws and in a heartbeat, she was dragging her back to the flat ledge of rock that was the siren's sentry point. The growl bubbled and boiled in her throat. She was in no mood to make allowances. She had nothing but disappointment since she left her home. Nothing but wolves telling her they had never seen anything like her or that all her kind had died out long ago. If she was to be the last then she da?well was going to have her way in the world. Once on her perch she sought to pin the wolf down - atempting to all her legs around the much smaller white form - belly against back and teeth against scuff as she lay on her side in the cranny of the cliff face. Even if the she-wolf managed to get free now there was doing but a long drop and a short stop below. Not enough hieght to kill her, but definately enough to break a leg. Maybe two. And yet for all that danger, if Silverback had really intended to just murder another creature, why hadn't she let go of the scruff and gone for something useful like the throat or the spine - or just bite down on the other's muzzle to smother it as lions often do? This was raw frustration fighting, she wanted to get a hold and keep it til her chosen prey stopped struggling. That was as far as her mind went. ~*~

until the end

that's where we begin

She still wasn't sure what the hell had a grip on her scruff but it was no doubt larger than her, for she found her efforts futile and she was dragged off her feet and found herself forcibly yanked upwards onto a cliff ledge. The guttural snarl of her fury -- and perhaps fear -- ripped from between her teeth as she thrashed, trying to shove against the weight that held her down. "Fuck off," she seethed, limbs thrashing, her body twisting and contorting in a vehement effort to get free, though the thing that had labeled her as prey was nearly twice her size, and Laxago couldn't help but think that this might be the end.

~*~ Silverback wasn't about to be thrown off easily. The she-wolf put up a fight, thrashing and pushing and trying to break free, but honestly, her words stung more than her actions. It had all happened too quickly and Silverback had all the right angles. It would've been that easy for the deer to die too. And by now Silver would be lapping at the lifeblood and ripping off strips of meat. In truth, the real hunting cats were naturally more merciful killers than wolves - by instinct they went for the spines or for the throats and noses. Wolves just swarmed enmass around a creature, dragging it down and ripping into it's guts and haunches while it was still screaming and kicking. Apparently some dogs had developed more precise ways of killing, but Silverback, from her far off peaks and purchases had watched plenty of hunts. She knew what distasteful, brutish things these four-legged flea bags could be. All of her ingrained rivalry with the things was pent up and released with growls and spats as she just kept pushing - holding the smaller creature down into the stone. Her wicked claws which were curved like the talons of a hawk, were right there- and oh dear - if the wolf moved too much they might just happen to sink in. Sure Silverback had met some mutts she almost liked, but she still saw their race as a disgrace on the whole to other predators and a lesser species. She'd even hunted their kind before! ... and then she remembered... Just the other day when she'd started sneaking south... the pup with the different colored eyes... The memory sapped a good deal of her anger, but not her strength. "Enough!" she yowled, somewhere between a hiss and a growl. Her words sliced through the chilled air like knives; knived laced with all the poisonous bile and anger than had been twisting in her gut. "Stop squirming or I'll sate my hunger with your shoulder!" She would have obedience and fear from this white worm, or she would have herself a meal. ~*~