Finally the long winter had ended. Though Asali had been delighted at first with the snow, as the months wore on with no let-up she had begun to dislike it. She was not equipped for hunting this way, and she couldn't seem to get enough calories to stay warm. The savanna she grew up in had been bitterly cold at night, but always the morning had come along to warm stiff muscles. Here, the mornings were nearly as bitter as the nights and there was no chance to just feel warm. She didn't have the downy warming undercoat wolves had to protect her from the chill, and so she wasted more energy and therefore calories in shivering than did the canines who ruled these lands. She lost a dangerous amount of weight and, even alternating between simply hunting and curled up tightly in a cave sleeping. Finally though, the snow was melting. It was still cold, and she was more often than not wet and still shivering, but the slush heralded warmth to come and that warmed her soul more than anything. Lifting her paws with more enthusiasm than she'd had for at least a month, the cheetah set out through the slush and mud for another hunting expedition. She had to be efficient in her hunting, because she couldn't fail and waste time and energy on multiple attempts since she simply didn't have energy to spare. Her already-lanky frame was bony, nearly all skeleton and whipcord muscle and loose skin. She wondered, worried despite the optimism of spring, how her family was faring in this place. If they were smart they'd have gone back to the savanna for the winter, or to the southern continent rather than do something as foolish as she had and tried to wait out the cold and snow. If they had stayed, were they doing ok? She was worried they'd be in worse shape than she was. Eshe was such a picky eater at the best of times and had always struck Sala as a bit vain, and Aqil was such an intellectual. Neither of them were really well suited to harsh conditions. Maybe Neemu would be able to help them, but she thought she'd convinced him to go back home to their brothers in their last conversation - maybe he'd brought Eshe and Aquil with him. Yawning, she stopped to sniff, opening her mouth to allow the scents to cross the olfactory glands with more ease, seeking for prey. Nothing so far. Just the faint scents of wolves and the fainter scents of prey long gone. Sighing, she marched on. ""

Pain still throbbed through the great cat's skull.  Every step sent another dull pulse echoing around his cranium but at least the itching in his wounds told him they were healing.  Skælingr paused to catch his breath.  The winter had not been a kind one to the tiger, he had chosen to travel outside of Alacritis and in doing so he finally managed to find more of his own kind.  However, the other male he'd ran into was fiercely aggressive and before too long a violent fight broke out leaving both wounded and Skælingr blind in his right eye.  Go figure. Striped tail twitched as his gaze turned south.  More than equipped to handle the cold weather his body urged him too seek a gentler climate to recover this spring.  Step after step he set out methodically moving to where he wanted, alert for threats but at the same time moving in the languid, lazy fashion of a top predator who had little to fear…. except his own kind.  How terribly ironic. ______________________ Nostrils flared as the tiger took in the scents of the valley, searching for anything of interest.  He had no real goals at the moment, other than healing his tired body and there were a number of factors to consider in making a temporary home.  Face contorted as he caught a strange scent.  It was feline enough but nothing he recognized.  Jade gaze scanned the horizon, stopping on an incredibly thin, lithe cat boasting an earthen coat dotted in black.  What the heck was that? Crouching down Skælingr continued to watch the foreign feline, his tail twitching lightly behind him as curiosity consumed his senses. "Speech"

Sala paused again, ignorant of the big cat who watched her from downwind, to once again sample the air. She caught the scent of a small group of deer, but judged it to be several hours old. They had come this way to reach the river to drink, and then left the same way. They were far too far away by this time for her to follow in her current condition. She'd need to keep looking. A faint sigh huffed from her, and she stuck her tongue out and no one in particular, and the gesture brought a smile back to her. Oh well, it was no big thing was it? She would just... She spun and froze, lifting her small, regal head to gaze warily in the direction of the movement that had caught her attention. A huge feline clicking its tail, its fur orange with black stripes, easily as large as a male lion, with strangely hypnotic green eyes... well, the one he still had anyway. She eyed the creature cautiously a moment - she was utterly confident of her ability to outrun anything on the savanna, had yet to find something other than another cheetah that she couldn't outrun, but this cat was a big fat unknown. She hadn't yet run across any native feline predators to compare herself to... was this a native then? He certainly looked much more at home with his fluffy fur and heavier body. Well, surely with that heavy body he could not run nearly as fast as she maybe not even , so it was likely safe to indulge her curiosity. She took a few rapid steps in the male's direction, relaxing into a more friendly stance. "As-salāmu ʿalayka," she called out - she'd come to the conclusion that natives in this land, disappointingly, did not learn Arabic as they should but that was no reason for her to be rude. ""

Skæ watched with intensity, marking her every movement. She was a very unusually built cat and as he watched her movement he realized that she was not underfed but built to be that slim. How curious. The woman froze and then turned to look at him. Skælingr froze, his emerald eyes staring right into her sapphire ones. As he stared he he relaxed, his eye closing slowly and opening again in a lethargic blink. She took several quick steps toward him as he sat up and spoke in an unusual tongue. His head tilted to the side. With no speech to go on he simply chuffed his greeting. Would the woman understand this tiger greeting? Moving his limbs evenly apart he stretched, first down and then up before he decided to try his words. "I apologize. I do not speak your tongue." He pawed at the snow, rolling it back and forth between his massive forepaws, his tail curling in and out as he unwittingly made a snow ball. "Speech"

The striped feline huffed at her, his relaxed appearance not convincing her that there was no danger - not that it mattered anyway. He did speak though, intimating that he didn't speak her language. A disappointment - it seemed no creature in these lands was versed in the ancient and beautiful tongue. "Thought not, no one else here seems to either," she said, making a face. Pleasantries over, she couldn't help but needle the shorter, stockier cat. "Besides, I've never seen anything like you back home so I guess I can't expect you to be cultured. So what are you, then, Stripes? Some sort of... maneless lion?" He'd have to be a maneless species, because he was clearly a he and clearly not a cub. She tilted her head to the side curiously, and grinned a smug cat grin. "Maybe your daddy was a zebra?" ""

Dimly he wondered where she hailed from but try as he might he could not place the words she spoke. However, it seemed he was in luck in that she spoke his tongue in addition to her own. He snorted at her comment about cultured but he let it roll of his back. He was sore and tired and not in the mood to go stirring up fights, even with a scrappy, twig of a cat like this woman in front of him. "Nay, twiggy. I am no lion. I am a tiger. Descended from a proud line of northern tigers all the way back to ancient times. And what of you? What kind of cat are you supposed to be? Or are you a weasel on stilts?" He grinned, enjoying making a few verbal jabs, knowing he'd likely get more in return. "Speech"