it did not the least delight her, the former mountain
reine, that her lands had been overrun by howling, reeking
bêtes barbares.
she looked with disapproval at the mountains, an ear flicking when that horrid, echoing song reached it.
honteux! it was
her screams that were meant to carry trough the halls,
her silhouette in the window of the tallest tower!
a horseman's whip; her tail lashed as she went. the mistress sought a spot for respite, the morning in progress, and she so needing sleep for her repeating nightly duties.
Daylight caught in the leaves of the red trees and blazed there, illuminating everything still crowning the boughs, although much of what remained had since piled upon the earth and begun to rot. It was good for hiding in; good for prey that thought itself safe to crawl the earth.
Mok was desperate. Poor hunting in their habitat had driven them this far - stalking the redwoods, following an irregular swaying path to a new place. It smelled of autumn and earth here. Of mice, pheasant bird, and rabbit.
It also smelled strongly of cat; this is what made Mok so nervous now. Their climb upon the ridge slowed as they took on a more cautious stride, gambling with every step.
the reine had found a spot to perch upon, a grand fallen oak. there, arms demurely crossed, tail irefully lashing, she laid, one hand's hidden daggers unsheathing to dig long ravines into the bark.
affreux! mal! honteux!
her frustration nearly manifested as a fiery, righteous halo about her queenly countenace - when one gemstone eye caught a glimpse of movement.
ah. un lynx. how drab.
the queen loudly, but most mannerly, cleared her throat.