.Tresspass.

[Rashas]

Snow laid thickly on the ground and on the bare branches of the trees. A cold wind rustled past the trees from the north and harshly whipping what growth was left on the ground. Small paw-prints glittered innocently on the freshly fallen snow where the naked branches cast shadows on the pristine ground. The woodlands were silent but for the creaking of the tree-limbs, and the air remained cool and odorless. Only the faint scent of cold and precipitation lingered in the air.

A shadow appeared on the horizon, a a slinking form through the once lush viridian dulled by winter. Large but nimble mitts carried a great tiger silently through the timberlands, its paws sinking into the snow soundlessly but leaving behind a trail of evidence. The femme was not suppose to be there. She tilted her maw and cast her flaming amber gaze around at her bare surroundings, making certain to keep to the shadows as much as possible. Winter's blessing allowed her to blend in with the snow, her ivory pelt camouflaging almost perfectly.

Hunger growled inside the Rashas' belly as she stalked on stealthily, tail hovering inches above the ground. She parted on jaws, tasting the air for the prey that she found scarce in the neutral terra. She had not eaten in suns; the last meal she had, if it could be counted as such, was a woodmouse that she had dug up from its hibernation slumber. Suddenly, the siberian tigress paused and narrowed her mahogany eyes. There, lingering ever so faintly before her nostrils, was the scent of boar.

The scent puzzled the great cat. It was the dead of winter; why had not the boar headed for the southern parts of the forest? Why had not it found itself a warm burrow and nestled itself inside? Nevertheless, it was fortunate for the beautiful femmora. She rasped her course tongue over her maw and sank into a hunter's crouch, moving like a shadow from tree to sheltering tree. Flexing long claws, she sniffed in anticipation, yet she wondered if she would be able to take down a grown boar in her starved state. Growling silently, she laughed, if she was starved, the boar must be in no better state as its vegatarian meals were gone with the fall.

Up ahead, a great oak tree rose up against the greyness of its surroundings. Its giant stature dwarved those around it and at its bottom was a family of boars. A female guarded the trunk, and surrounding her were four piglets. The tigress scented the air again, praising the gods that she was upwind. She understood now. The mother had obviously dropped her young too late in the season and had been forced to stay put. They now gathered in the shadow of the oak, nibbling at some rare blades of grass that poked out of the snow.

Rashas smiled painfully, shaking her head. For a second, she almost turned away from the family, not able to bring herself to kill the family. Yet her predatory instinct took over and her hunger reminded her that nature's law was eat or be eaten. The femme bunched her muscles and sprang for the sow. She saw her claws flash as she surprised the pig, landing on the boar and knocking her down. There was a squeal of the young ones as she flashed her jaws, bringing her punishing fangs onto the boar.