How long had it been? How long since her brother was ripped away from her? The days scrambled together. The time was distorted and lost to her. And at some point she lost herself as well. Her fur was unkempt, scratches strewn all over her previously beautiful coat. She was half starved, her grief stricken mind unable to cope— unable to find any meaning in feeding herself. She had not slept since the day it happened, afraid of the dreams sure to come.

Sobbing, desperate tears were all that she knew, until the reality set in. She was alone. She had been the burden she always claimed to be. A self fulfilled prophecy.

Then there was fury. Hate unlike anything she had ever felt before. Even more ferocious than the night she had been violated by her betrothed. The relentless emotion consumed her from head to toe, burning through everything she had ever been; everything she could have been. In this new state, she turned away from her path of fleeing, her limbs carrying her back to the scene of bloodshed. She screamed to the point her voice cracked and grew hoarse, nails scratching and clawing at the dried blood on the ground. Her jaws opened and tore at the trees, bark stabbing into her tongue and gums but she could feel no pain. Nothing could compare to losing her protector; her brother. Mistral was gone. His body was taken, so that she could not even properly bury him. Denied even the pitiful end of wasting away cradling his body. At least she would have been at his side in death. Now he was truly, completely, lost to her.

So she stood there, huffing, the effects of her anger ebbing away — with once vibrant eyes dull with grief. But she had nothing left… nowhere to go… there was no one in this world who would stay by her side now.


””

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"

The stranger's presence in the dense jungle stirred a faint response in the woman. The fog, like a heavy shroud, draped the surroundings, mirroring the mist of sorrow that enveloped her heart. She was lost in it, lost to it. A ghost – she may as well have been. She did not feel the slightest bit alive. Were these her paws? Riddled in cuts, scrapes, and dried, flaking blood? Was this her body at all? Her mouth hurt. Why? Her tongue carefully ran along her gums and she found only splinters and blood she could not taste. Until now. How did they come to be? Why was the clearing in such ruins? Did any of her questions matter?

Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she raised her skull to peer weakly at the stranger. A brown feline, a tiger. But from Cierzo there was no fear or worry as to why the larger predator had approached her. Melancholy clung to her, her once gentle spirit weighed down by the burden of grief. Everything felt like a somber echo of the happiness she had lost. Even the idea that maybe this tiger would kill her. Couldn’t she? Wouldn’t she? Wasn’t that the best thing that could happen now?

Her gaze locked with that of her reaper, her lovely face now drained of vitality. She was akin to a wilted flower. The woman lowered her gaze, her meekness evident as she struggled to find words to convey the weight of her grief. "It- It was a force beyond understanding,"She whispered, her voice trembling with sorrow. "There is no beauty here. It has faded, and all that remains is- is nothing. Me." The blush creature, and really all she was now was... just a pit of despair, looked on at the tiger with a brokenness. One that sought reprieve.

””