evacuate the dancefloor

Atticus moved swiftly across the rocky terrain, her paws effortlessly finding the sturdy wedges along her descent. From her jaws dangled an adolescent goat, limp and clearly meant to be supper. It had been an arduous task to stalk the thing as it ran rampant across the mountainside, but patience had rewarded her and she was pleased with the payoff. Now it was only a quick trip back to her den and she could settle in for the night. When the morning came she would sneak out on another adventure in a quest to locate some herbs for her garden, but that was a tomorrow problem. As she neared her home, Atticus slowed to a leisurely stroll before settling just outside the yawning mouth of her den. And now -- supper.

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I FOUND U

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Leaden paws as heavy as they were, were deathly silent as she paraded on through the jagged mountains, — a place she’d frequent proactively. The goats here becoming her all-time favorite meal. But it seemed she wasn’t the only one. As she approached the grounds of which she knew too well now, she hopped off another steep ledge that the goats often so easily scaled as they retreated from the predator. There on the lower shelves of the mountains was another leopard, much akin to herself.

Maeve licked her lips and prowled after them. She wasn’t sure what intrigued her the most, the right to the slain goat in what she deemed were her hunting grounds, or who was this other feline?

She kept an assured distance, ever the skillful and sly kitty that she was. Until they’d reached where they supposedly were off to. Maeve neared the ground, crouching to watch them from afar for a while, before slowly making an appearance to them.

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Ever the proper queen of the slopes, Atticus paused before eating in order to offer gratitude to the spirits above. She was a predator who took no joy in slaying, would very much have been a vegan had she a way to supplement the nutrients her body absorbed from the meats. Although she loathed to do it, hunting was a necessary evil; the least she could do was offer the goat her thanks. Perhaps it was not so inclined to appreciate the sentiment, being dead and all, but at least her conscience was clear.

Atticus lowered her teeth to the goat in preparation for the first bite, lips peeled back to prevent any accidental cuts. It was only in this briefest of moments she noticed another of her kind approaching, expression indiscernible. No matter! She was nothing if not welcoming. "Hello, friend! Will you come share my supper? I insist, please make yourself comfortable." Atticus grinned, far too naive to assume anyone could possibly have foul intentions.

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The pupils of her ocean-lit eyes dilated, fully immersed in the other's actions. The scent they carried flew up into the wind that whipped around the altitude of the mountain range, and it was then she realized they were female too. She wouldn’t be as cautious now, knowing the desire and blood lust of a territorial male would soon have sent her fleeing if it was one.

She crept forth a little further, body still kissing the ground as she practically crawled until she was suddenly spotted and a cringey sweet melody from the female slipped into her ears. An involuntary twinge creased at the top of her lip, in slight disgust at their over-eager invite.
‘You should be careful with inviting strangers to dine with you’, a fierce and threatening look flashed over her, slowly pulling herself up from her predator stance, slinking her way over to her regardless.

‘Not many are kind to us here’. she spat out, as she sat in front of her, the carcass set between the two of them. Clearly referring the us to their kind. She needn't look around to safeguard their perimeter, knowing fully well the canines here couldn't reach the mantel they were on. 'You're lucky a dog hasn't come for your kill', she scoffed at their naivety. 

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Atticus watched with some amusement as the fellow feline emerged from her stealthy position, though her barbed tongue immediately brought a frown to her lips. Goodness, why so bitter? She didn't have too much experience with canines as a whole, but it didn't take too much to realize that this woman clearly had. Atticus studied her as she continued, wondering why the stranger had bothered to pursue her at all if it hadn't been for the meat or company. For some reason, she doubted that she was warning her out of the goodness of her heart.

"But you are one of my kind, so why would I send you away?" Her tongue drew along her blood soaked muzzle as she watched, head tilting in curiosity. If it was the wolves she needed to be worried about, it still wasn't reason enough to be wary of another snow leopard. Not to her, anyway.

As for a dog coming for her kill, well. Atticus shrugged. "It's not as though I haven't stolen food from dogs before, honestly. Besides, you're the first soul I've encountered since waking up here. It's nice to know there are others." The spotted feline glanced up to the other, chewing the inside of her cheek. "All that aside, will you join me?" Naive, yes, but also entirely too sweet for her own good.

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She was statuesque, unwavering from the mild rebuke the leopardess gave. An eyebrow raised — her silent reply; the quiet of her eyes just watching and analysing her for any signs of hazard from her. But Maeve didn’t really care, ultimately. There were a dozen and half reasons to not allow the obnoxious feline to dine with them, but she wasn’t about to pass up a free meal, was she?
 
Her cold, unsympathetic heart was one that would take forever to thaw your way into. She would be the last to admit she had feelings of warmth and butterflies for anyone that got past that frozen void of her heart. But there were the rare occasions someone would slot in to there, but it would never be the likes of a disgusting dog though. It felt like some time.. too long, really, since she came across another of her kind.
 
The banks of the almost barren peaks here were the echoes of her companionship; nonexistent. So she opted to remain, and lay down, diving her head at the hide of the goat, with one soft mitten hooked onto it to keep it in place. She removed her deathly stare from the female, completely nonchalant by their presence now.
 
Between her first mouthful, she tried the idea of dinner talk, ‘I’m not entirely sure if we are the only ones here. You’re the first I’ve come across, to be honest’, she shrugged her shoulders, showing her carelessness. But then her sharp eyes narrowed onto her like the curious kitty she was. ‘What did you mean by waking up here?’.

Maeve was undeterred by the fuzzy rain that attempted to penetrate that deep coat of hers, however, if the elements grew harsher she'd most likely prompt the other to bring the carcass into the confines of their claimed den.

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Whether or not the leopard dismissed her ideas as silly was inconsequential to Atticus. At the end of the day, she had convinced the other to (albeit begrudgingly) settle down to share a meal and conversation. Wolves and naivety aside, the ashen feline counted that as a win.

Her amethyst gaze softened as she considered the possibility they were the last of their kind. How depressing. It meant with the two of them, their species would die out -- and wasn't that something they should rectify? But how, if there were no males about? Hm, how troublesome. Atticus thought quietly as she gnawed on the goat's horn, cleaning her teeth more than she was eating anything.

Atticus' ears drew forward at the question. "Oh, I don't remember anything before a few days ago. I only remember waking up here and being terribly confused, but I was hungry and needed to survive so I haven't thought too much about it sense. Doesn't seem to be much of a reason to dwell on it, you know? This is where I am now, may as well make the best of things." Had she suffered an accident that left her with amnesia? She genuinely didn't know, but the fact Maeve seemed perplexed made her think it was something along those lines.

"Have you lived here your whole life?"

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The paltry fat on this infant's hide was only just about tolerable for a fussy Maeve, her ivories piercing through like a hot knife in butter, getting to the muscles and succulent flesh to appease her appetite. A flash of an eye lazily caught the other feline uninterested in her green kill, seemingly carving the rough edges of their own pearly whites.
 
Their story was hardly enrapturing, not enough to distract her even from the meager meal. Using the roughened surface of her tongue, she licked at the steady flow of blood trickling along the flap of meat.
‘But can you at least remember your name?’, her vocals sung in slight hope of this, but also because maybe she could make up something new for the foreigner if they didn’t.

A question came her way, usually it was only she who asked the questions. Her face came up at this peak of interest, with intense eyes latching onto the others if they glanced their way for a moment.
 
‘I don’t ever settle long. I prefer to keep on the move’, she tried to keep it vague and distant, ‘but I have been in this area for a while’, her head bobbing to the dinner beneath them, ‘mainly because there’s a good supply of food here… ’ eyes darkened slightly and an eyebrow raised accusingly as she finished her sentence, ‘ …with lack of competition ’.  She daren’t reveal she did get lonely at times despite the easy life.

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Atticus was happy enough to let her companion begin supper, only indulging herself after her guest had taken the first bite. Atticus may have suffocated prey animals for food, but she had manners, thank you very much. It was only appropriate for her fellow feline to dine first!

"Atticus," came the woman's reply, no hesitation saddling her answer. It was one of the few things she did remember, to be quite honest, but wasn't entirely sure how it would help in the long run. Something more beneficial would have been lovely, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Atticus went about taking her fill while a keeping a cupped ear trained on the leopardess, attentively listening as though every word were the most important.

As she neared the end and her expression shifted into one of accusation, Atticus blinked in gentle surprise. "Oh dear, well, I can certainly move on if there's not room for the both of us. I don't want to put my paws where they don't belong." She fumbled with them, the pads brushing together as she nervously fidgeted. "I do get lonely, though, and yours is the first face I've seen yet.." Atticus wasn't afraid to admit she was lonely and she hoped the other woman wouldn't send her on her way.

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Long, pristine claws etched their way into the billys’ hind, gripping the prey from sliding beneath her reach once her dinner date began to have their own fill, although the feline had stopped eating her meal herself, eyes completely focused on Atticus as they spoke.
 
She didn’t want to but only felt it kind to her doppelgänger that she offered her own name. A low throaty rumble came prior, as though her own body protested from giving them this next information. ‘Maeve’, and now, to comfort herself in this displeasure, she busied herself with the kill once again with lethal ivories gnawing at a hip's bare joint.
 
The others’ concern was very apparent, a discomfort displayed as they toyed with their paws, and Maeve arched a judgemental eyebrow at this nervous energy.
 
‘You’re fine for now’, she started, that cold air of hers lingering, ‘until you find your feet again’. Granted, the obnoxious girl was… obnoxious, but she lent an odd paw of being courteous, though with Ts and Cs applying, naturally — the crucial one being the girl was a feline, and more in their favor she was the very same species.
 
Besides, having another has its benefits, with exhibit A being the fresh, beautiful platter before her.
 
‘I’m used to be lonely now. You’ll soon get used to it too. Unless you like the company of dogs, of course’.

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Atticus wondered what had transpired to produce such a steely woman. Of course she had encountered others of the same disposition, bit the same question had applied to them as well. She had been given the same answers each time -- silence and nothingness. The leopardess studied the woman innocently, though she wanted nothing more than to prod and pry until the tenderness within revealed itself.

"That's a lovely name," she offered, knowing it would likely be met with nothing more than a grunt of recognition.

She was surprised that Maeve allowed her to stay even if it was only temporarily. Atticus wasn't entirely sure what 'on her feet' meant, exactly, but she supposed Maeve would let her know. The woman didn't seem the type to let something like that slip under the radar.

It appeared she would be getting used to the idea of loneliness, then. Atticus frowned somewhat but said nothing, only nodding in understanding. Perhaps it would be best if Maeve didn't know that she was a woman who treated all, canines or not.

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Maeve exited the womb with a large, indented, crater of a chip on her shoulder, with a never-ending feeling the world had its whole back turned against her. She had been alone from the moment nature took its course for her to leave her dam. And thus, all creatures that carried that rather unfortunate burden of meeting her, would only be met with a hard exterior of a woman.
 
All that was said back to her was a compliment, in which she had not received many in her timeframe. ‘Thank.. you?’, a confused, muttering was what thrown into the swirling mixture of air here, from the clashing of characters.
 
But silence ensued thereafter, and Maeve took a pause from the kill and eyed the other suspiciously. They’d gone mute. Why? After such an exuberant, buoyant greeting?
 
She realized it must be due to her lack of such a… vulgar quality.

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Oh dear, had she done something wrong? The skeptical look flashed in her direction gave her pause, wondering if it was rude to compliment a given title. Atticus respected the woman and her lack of pep, so she had thought to match her level would be best -- but now that she was being stared at in such a manner, the leopardess hesitated. She gave a sheepish smile, feeling as though she were supposed to be apologizing for the lull in conversation. Atticus glanced at the area before finally settling back on Maeve, offering up the only thing she could think of: "You're quite pretty, too." As if complimenting her would magically make things less awkward instead of more. It wasn't exactly a bull's-eye, but she was partially curious to see what kind of reaction it would warrant. You know, considering the look she'd gotten by merely complimenting her name.

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Whilst the merciless woman had not the warmest of touches, she had tried what she felt was her best to attempt a little interaction with the first of her kind she had come across in some meaningful time.
Perhaps over a period, with seeing the kind girl about, they’d be able to encroach on the blackened, moldy-ass strings of her heart. But today was not that day.
 
A blank, emotionless canvas was what stretched across her cloudy features, as the other thought filling that empty void of their conversation with further compliments would somehow bring out, miraculously, a suddenly benevolent, happy kitten of a Maeve.
 
Instead, the feline just held that cold stare, and then abruptly reacted by swiftly pushing herself to stand, saying, 'Okay, I’m out' and walking in the direction from whence she came. Because fuck that weird, complimentary shit.

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Socially awkward as she was, Atticus understood when the woman declared she was through. Her ears fell against her head in sadness as she dropped her amethyst gaze to the snow, drowning deeply. Being raised as she had left her with limited skills on how to befriend someone, but it was clear she had misstepped. Maeve was angry, and Atticus made a point to leave sooner rather than later. She didn't want to impede on the leopardess' territory more than necessary, waste more of her time by being a nuisance. Atticus sniffled as she reached to grab the remains of her kill, turning abruptly so the other wouldn't see the tears as they slipped down her cheeks. It wasn't her fault she was so strange, she reminded herself. It never worked. Atticus slipped into her den and snuggled against the back, wishing she had just been born into a normal life.

fin

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