Maea
And I only needed one more touch
Another taste of devouring rush
Another taste of devouring rush
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Maea had no objections to pressing on. The tiger's lean muscled body was a comfortable guise to inhabit, and the simple task of navigating the maze eased the chatter of thoughts from her mind. Away from distractions and temptation this was a moment where it seemed alright to merely exist and let go; there was no one around whom she was capable of hurting, nor any reason to hold herself back from the instincts whispering within.
As time passed her senses sharpened. Being around other predators helped her accept the tendency within herself, so that the sudden appearance of the boar didn't cause her to shrink back but instead leap towards it, her reactions a fraction behind Remi's.
Caught in the thrill of the chase, the molten tiger tore off along the hedge and turned onto the first path that appeared that led to the left. Keeping her striped shoulder pressed up to the roses and leaving a trail of charred petals in her wake she kept turning left at every intersection, thinking it would be enough to let her catch up to the prey. Hunger was more than a grumbled in her belly, it was a song in her blood, a whisper in her muscles, an itch beneath her skin that lent a ruthless sheen to the gilded eyes.
That pig was already dead. It just didn't know it yet.
As time passed her senses sharpened. Being around other predators helped her accept the tendency within herself, so that the sudden appearance of the boar didn't cause her to shrink back but instead leap towards it, her reactions a fraction behind Remi's.
Caught in the thrill of the chase, the molten tiger tore off along the hedge and turned onto the first path that appeared that led to the left. Keeping her striped shoulder pressed up to the roses and leaving a trail of charred petals in her wake she kept turning left at every intersection, thinking it would be enough to let her catch up to the prey. Hunger was more than a grumbled in her belly, it was a song in her blood, a whisper in her muscles, an itch beneath her skin that lent a ruthless sheen to the gilded eyes.
That pig was already dead. It just didn't know it yet.
But the room was so quiet
Whose side am I on?
Whose side am I on?
