Isla
babe, there's something so lonesome about you
At first, instinct being what it is, of course the tigress mid-feast parts her jaws and bares teeth at the encroaching feline. But - as a prime example of being permitted to lose control but keep herself, perhaps - Isla soon recognises Maea for who she is and offers a grumble of welcome. Shifting to the side enough to share, it isn't long before both big cats are muzzle deep in the kill, sating the bloodlust that sings through their veins and revelling the satisfaction that comes with it.
Only when Isla has eaten her fill and then some does she pad away from the deer and melt down into the long grass, rolling and stretching and flexing bloody claws, before coming to a rest. Through half-lidded eyes she watches her companion, questions burning on a tongue with no words to form them, and an afternoon nap pulling inexorably at her bones.
Only when Isla has eaten her fill and then some does she pad away from the deer and melt down into the long grass, rolling and stretching and flexing bloody claws, before coming to a rest. Through half-lidded eyes she watches her companion, questions burning on a tongue with no words to form them, and an afternoon nap pulling inexorably at her bones.
something so wholesome about you
