Ankyra Sound jòn

A sound emanating from the forest ahead startled Grackle, causing her to freeze in place. Her emerald eyes, set within the darkness of her visage, cautiously scanned the horizon. That was no rabbit; it was a voice. She was not alone.

She would grab her hare and hurry out of this place. Grackle was too tired to fight now, and she knew it. All she needed to do was find that gods-forsaken thing. She slunk ahead, her body nearly brushing the forest floor, her ears pricked and alert for any unfamiliar sounds. The scents of both the rabbit and, regrettably, the stranger, grew stronger with each passing moment. Hopefully, she would encounter the former before the latter.

The hare was finally within her sight, nestled in the hollow between the bracken. Her opportunity had come. Grackle readied herself to spring, to capture her prey and make a swift exit from this place. However, as her gaze traveled from the hare to the foliage beyond, she stumbled upon a sight that left her breathless and unable to look away. There was the stranger, opposite to her, apparently also hunting the same hare.

The ocean's azure depths, the boundless expanse of sky, and the tender wings of a fragile butterfly, all connected and curled within the gaze of this mystifying stranger. These eyes, like a siren's call, arrested her very breath, rendering her powerless to avert her own stare. Such a color she had never beheld, imaginable only if possessed by some deity or sea nymph drawn down from the heavens to grace the earthly realm with their presence. Yet, the scent that wafted to her was distinctly mortal. In this presence, Grackle felt assured that neither divine wrath nor celestial ire would descend upon her for indulging in a stolen glance, or perhaps, even a burgled meal.

But her paws would not move no matter how much she willed them to. The sea goddess had bewitched the wretched little serpent.