P a n g a e a
broken your servant I kneel
it seems what's left of my human side
is slowly changing in me
She clung to the branch of the tree, one limb being treated far more carefully than the other after the violent fight she'd partaken in not so long ago. The pain in the ankle twinged with each step she took, but worse of all, the uselessness of that foot, the powerful claws that would normally aid in finding her dinner, hunting her dinner - it had been useless. And, as a result, Pangaea was slowly beginning to feel the hunger set in.
The clawed digits of her wings dug rivets into the wood, muzzle parting, rolling the scents to the back of her mouth, as s the tried to find something - anything to eat. A touch, a faintest hint of something familiar in the air had the reptilian equine pausing, a curious chirp leaving her mouth before she could stop it. A second scenting of the air confirmed what she couldn't yet believe. There, somewhere nearby, in this hilly landscape was an elk-ancestor. A creature she had preyed on often enough with the pack, before they'd had to cross into the new worlds.
Awkwardly, the dinosaur-horse half flopped, half took off from the branch, powerfully thrusting her wings, to keep herself from crashing back into the ground. Gritting fangs together, it took a bit of work, but finally, she was airborne, and as her mind settled in on the hunt, the mare gritted her teeth, and took a deep breath in through her nose, finding her center. The hunger led her way, carrying her through the air, the golden jewelry adorning her body glinted in the sunlight. She soon spotted the beast, the large antlers hard to miss on such a sturdy being.
In her deliriously hungry (one could tell by how thin she'd grown in the weeks since the battle, unable to properly hunt with the injuries she'd sustained, and the wounds on her legs definitely not yet healed, and constantly being reopened by her own foolishness in not letting anyone continue to treat them), she didn't bother to take awareness of the creature. Perhaps if she had, she'd have noticed he wasn't as alone as she first thought. She'd have seen the glowing mushrooms. She'd have realized he wasn't like home.
But she didn't care, she didn't see. Her eyes saw dinner, her stomach growled angrily that she wasn't feasting yet, and she gave a shrill, saurian hunting cry - a part of her heart aching when she didn't hear the echo of her pack confirming their positions that would let the prey know it was surrounded - and dived, fangs glistening, and her clawed, and scaled back legs lurching forward. It was a perfect dive, even if those back legs showed clear signs of injury, a practice move, that should she be allowed to connect, would see her slamming into the deer's back, muzzle clamping around the neck. Her forehooves would latch beneath the front legs, wrenching them up while the angle she'd land with would allow her back claws to rake through the delicate belly of the prey, while her fangs would snap tight at the spine, to make the death of her meal as quick as possible.
But this elk was not alone. This dinsoaur-horse was not in tip-top condition. And this hunt would not end as she expected.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Gareth
Notes: Alright! Gareth can now slam into her, and startle her out of her hunger-induced tunnel vision.
when suddenly it changes
violently it changes
there is no turning back now
you've woken up the demon in me
