Boudika’s crimson eyes had rested for only a moment upon the winged strange—before adverting to the strange birds, of which he spoke. They were bizarre, perhaps, but Boudika did not know if she would call them “fearsome”. Perhaps that was only because she was more accustomed to horses with shapes like liquid, and lips that only thinnly veiled the rowed fangs of a shark. At his first comment, Boudika’s lips twisted wryly into what could only be described as a smirk.
“Even stranger?” Despite the sternness of her tone, nearly sardonic, she felt anxious. The idea unsettled her a bit, perhaps, in the way that the entire island gleamed like a faceted gem. There was something distinctly artificial about it, not in the composition of the island itself, but in the shine, the brightness, the fanged birds that screamed in a way too reminiscent of death. Then there was this stranger, with his darkness like an abyss, devouring the light where he stood. Boudika had rarely seen an equine so utterly black, and the sharp contrast between the island’s throbbing colour and Caine’s lack of it was difficult to look at.
As she reasoned through his suggestion, Boudika decided it would be foolish not to accept. “Two in this place definitely seems better than one.” Was it just her, or did the ground feel like a pulse beneath their hooves? Boudika thought to ask, but refrained. The statue was why she was here, as well. The rumours had at last gotten the best of her. The call, the curiosity, the… enticement, which was far too much like the danger of the sea.
At the mention of the statue, however, Boudika’s eyes caught on an abrupt flash of movement. It was languid, unhurried, and her eyes took a moment to focus on the dark cat. It gleamed, wrought of sapphire, and oblong spots like bullion lace.The birds abandoned their perch, and the cat yawned at them. Although not large, there was a certain amount of malice in the shine of its teeth against its dark lips, and the vicious brightness of the eyes. Again, deeply faceted stones. To watch it was captivating; like the movement of a snake, or a spider weaving a web.
Then it disappeared, with all the insolence of a cat. That was reassuring, at least—that a cat was still a cat. Boudika rested in the silence for a moment, eerily noting the birds had stopped with their bizarre ruckus of noise. “… should we… follow it?” A part of her felt strangely compelled, as though it would take them exactly where they wanted to go.
She realised, with as sort of shock, that she had not yet given her name. And rather than correct herself, her tongue caught on her teeth. This did not seem like the sort of place, where one gave their name. The island might twist it from her, might corrupt it—did a name not have power? So Boudika did not ask for his, and took a tentative step after the feline.
YOUNG ONE, EVERYTHIGN IN THIS FOREST NEEDS TO BE KILLED. THEY'RE DANGEROUS, TOO DANGEROUS TO LIVE. YES, WE MEAN THIS FOREST THAT YOU ARE IN. YES, WE MEAN THIS FOREST WE WILL NOT LET YOU LEAVE. THE THINGS ARE SO DANGEROUS, YOUNG ONE. YES, WE MEAN THINGS LIKE YOU, NOTHING GOOD LIVES IN THIS FOREST. THAT'S WHY WE WON'T LET ANYTHING LEAVE. YOUNG ONE, WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT US LIKE THAT? WHY ARE YOU BARRING YOUR FANGS, SLASHING YOUR CLAWS? THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT WE MEAN. EVERYTHING IN THIS FOREST WANTS TO HURT US. EVERYTHING IN THIS FOREST NEEDS TO BE KILLED.
