Rakia slunk through the towering trunks of the Mile-High Woods, the forest floor was cushioned beneath her paws as she moved through it, nearly soundlessly. High above, the twisted branches intertwined like a striking mosaic, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow on her fur. But the beauty of her surroundings was lost on Rakia, her icy blue eyes narrowed and lips curled back in a snarl. The sting of defeat still burned in her mind, each step an echo of her wounded pride. How could she have let herself be bested so easily? The memory of the red brute made her blood boil. She should have seen his counter coming, should have been quicker, smarter, better.

A low growl rumbled in Rakia's throat as she quickened her pace, weaving through the dense undergrowth with fluid grace. She needed to get away, to clear her head and lick her wounds in private. Out here among the ancient trees, she could let her mask of calculated control slip away, could give in to the frustration and anger that simmered beneath her skin. Rakia climbed higher into the branches, her claws digging into the rough bark as she pulled herself up. The forest seemed to close in around her, wrapping her in a cocoon of leaves and shadows. Up here, she was untouchable, hidden away from prying eyes and probing questions. Here, she could be weak for a moment- without fear of judgment or consequence. Rakia settled herself on a thick branch, her tail curling around her paws as she stared out at the sea of leaves that stretched endlessly before her. The gentle rustling of the wind through the canopy was soothing, a balm to her battered ego. She took a deep breath, letting the earthy scent of the forest fill her lungs and calm her racing thoughts.

"Rakia Perreau"

Redrum trudged through the woods, his breath ragged as the last dregs of adrenaline pulsed through his veins. His cheek dripped blood, part of the large gash splitting his cheek in a sickly half grin crusted over and clotted. He'd lost the woman, he assumed. He couldn't remember, not fully. He recalled his vision tunneling, his urge for revenge... and the screeching in his ears. But more than that, he still felt an obsessive urge to tear and mangle. He stopped abruptly, claws digging into the earth as he leaned against a broad, weathered tree trunk for a moment. His jaw clenched tight, the muscles in his neck straining as his golden eyes stared both blankly and intensely ahead.

Another tree in front of him became the focus point of his frustration, or at least his anger. Without warning, he lashed out, lunging, claws raking, tearing away strips of bark in jerking motions. Every splintering strike caused him to release guttural sounds, his breath hitching with every swing. Splinters flew, the sound of claws on wood filling the silence. Yet the more he clawed, the less satisfaction it brought, the emptiness inside him refusing to be filled. There was something disturbing about how little in control he felt, and for what? For that woman to toy with him, laughter echoing in his dim memory of the chase.

Redrum's body quaked as his strikes became weaker, less precise, less violent. He leaned heavily against the mutilated tree, his breathing harsh. A low, stuttered growl escaped his throat as he pressed his forehead against the trunk, his long ears pinned back against his skull. Crimson striped shoulders rising and falling with labored breaths, he stilled. Eyes staring, a mutter of curses dripping like the blood from his cheek—bitter and resentful. His frenzy and the following lash out had left him hollow, like his thoughts were whittled down into a dull and disjointed tangle of anger. Of indignity.

For a long moment, he stayed there, pressed against the tree, his mind too clouded to notice anything around him. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, to anchor himself in the quiet—even if it was the only thing he had left.

"Murder"