Hot and humid, dark and dank, just the way she liked it. Granted, almost every day was like that, but for some reason, today she just felt… different. Better, somehow. The day had been so nice that Sshadara just had to go outside. One thing led to another, and well… she was now taking a lovely stroll—er, slither—through the rainforest. The fresh air would do her good after so long cooped up in Zinrah, and though the hot springs were nice wrestling could only do so much to stave off boredom. Besides, she’d always lose.
Steam and shadows swirled together in dizzying patterns, and everything was alive. Birds screamed at each other in the canopy, monkeys hooted as they jumped over vines, and there was the constant dripping of water sliding from one place to another.
The Myrians hadn’t been as difficult to evade as she’d imagined; they were already distracted by time and drowsy from the heat. She’d debated killing one of them, but quickly decided it would be an idiotic idea as there were a grand total of five.
She had eaten four days ago, so while her meal was digested she wasn’t particularly hungry. She was heading to the Basin, but didn’t have much of a plan other than to enjoy the day. Though if she happened across a solo Myrian, she wouldn’t object to killing it if it was possible.
She heard the faint trickling of water over the dull roar of the forest, and though the air was too heavy for her to make out a specific smell the sound was more than enough for her to find the brook. She turned and followed it, knowing that any running water in the area would feed into the Kandukta.
It was then that she caught the scent. As first she thought it was a Myrian, but a second sniff revealed that that was not the case. Sshadara sniffed again, and had she been in human form her eyes would have opened as wide as an owl’s. It… it was a common human! For a moment she just stay there, stunned, trying to convince herself that it was not so. It was impossible. Common humans did not live in Falyndar, only Myrian humans did. But her nose did not deceive her…
She abandoned all thoughts of a stroll as she plunged after the trail, keeping her nose in the air. It was musky, a musk similar to Dhani and Myrian males, and was accompanied with the smell of blood and an animal. The trail veered suddenly, over a rise and into the basin, and she got a waft of bird-scent before it returned to the level it had originally been at.
She stopped as she realized where exactly he was going: Taloba. He was heading straight for Taloba.
Her emotions immediately entered combat. One side of her, her survivalist side, advised her to drop it immediately and save her own skin, while the other begged to continue and find out just who this man was. After a while of conflicted indecision, she uneasily headed towards the Myrian city.
As she neared her senses heightened with caution. She felt the ground rumble with great footsteps, and she was hit with the filthy stench of Tskannas. She moved slowly after, keeping herself alert for any solo Myrians, and felt a flutter of excitement when she felt the human’s scent getting fresher. It left the main path and she pursued quickly and cautiously. Then, a mere minute’s slither away, she saw him.
He was tall, at least for a human, and lean. His skin was tanned, and his sharp facial features were framed by black hair that shone in the light. He bore a sword, an animal lay dead at his feet, and Sshadara tilted her head at the multiple slash marks in his clothing. They were bloody, but there didn’t seem to be any significant injuries. Strange. No, intriguing.
Sshadara moved with patient slowness, keeping well behind ample cover to hide her completely from sight. And if her careful movements made any sounds, well… the forest’s roars would cover that up nicely. And as she moved, she shifted, ever so slowly, ever so gently, ever so quietly. And so it was only when she was completely hidden, when even someone standing right next to her could mistake her skin for mere dapples on the forest floor, did she speak.
“Humaan…” she hissed in the Myrian tongue. The word was low, drawn out, floating around the clearing softly so that only he could hear it, this dismembered voice on the wind.
“Brave, to be so close to Taloba. Brave, but also foolish.” |
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