Wapun Meadow she is now.

was it nice to see her, truly?

astara continued her prowl -- a shark lazily encircling shisu with growing hunger.

not nyra... but... what if...?

it had been so long since astara had a real hunt. her legs ached for the burn of the chase. her tongue ached for the split-metal taste of iron between her teeth --

astara ignored the question. she was beginning to like the idea of a hunt more and more... to sharpen her appetite, to whet her claws -- to prepare her for hunting that bitch nyra down, that dared smile at her rook;

astara froze, hackles rising in an unsettled palisade along her spine. she raised her muzzle and fixed shisu with a pointed, hungry stare:
run --
as if your life depended on it.