12/16/2024, 12:16 AM
The storm had passed with the night and as the sun rolled through the sky, Myrilla found herself hungering; she had not indulged in a meal the night past, the canine continued to live and the feline's stomach sat heavy, empty.
She roams this new land with steady paws, the fresh snowfall crunching softly beneath her cushioned pads as she treks through the forest, eyes roaming and ears alert, patiently seeking her next meal so it is perhaps a little... dumb of her to fail in noticing the sudden lack of snow beneath her paws.
The tigress tumbles into the concave of snow with a soft grunt, impacting heavily against another body with a groan. It's smaller than her, warm and thick with fur and if Myrilla was a lesser woman, a lesser God, she might have just settled and taken a leaf from the stranger's book, but Myrilla was hungry.
The feline rises with a snarl on her lips, ready to tear into whatever she'd come across until forest-green eyes take in stripes and sandy hues- another tiger. A male, scent tells her, slightly rounded with youth but closer to adulthood than cubhood.
Myrilla had yet to indulge in cannibalism.
Rising to her paws, the woman stands over the slightly smaller male, head cocking in contemplation. She is hungry- but the boy is pretty. Cute. And perhaps Myrilla has grown soft since coming to this world, for instead of tearing through that pretty fur, the woman chuffs, a laugh rolling from her lips, though she does not move from her position.
"Why on Earth are you sleeping in a snowdrift, boy?" Myrilla questions, lips curling into a grin sharp with teeth, tail curling this way and that as she thinks, contemplates. The boy is alone, though another scent clings heavily to his pelt, canine in nature.
How interesting.