[Perses]

       The beast was an early riser - the nightmares were the equivalent of a wake-up call - and he rose with the sun now lest he get another blood-washed memory disguised as a dream. It was a cloudy morning and the rising sun painted the sky pink which was getting chased away by the blue of the day sky. The crisp air and the biting winds blew the snow into drifts that made the beast's movements easy to follow. The trees provided little cover as they were without their leaves - or flowers - and were now just blackened, lifeless versions of what they once were.

       The beast lumbered through the trees with a surprising amount of silence to his steps that one wouldn't think a creature as enormous as he would be capable of. He was massive with a tall stature with large paws connected to thick limbs carrying a broad and muscular body with the bulk further exaggerated by thick fur that was thickening even more for the winter months ahead, though the winter months he had been bred for were up further north. A pair of thick but dulled sabres hung from his jaws and a large, fluffy tail dragged against the snow.

       On his head he wore a pink and white flower crown.

---

       Perses hadn't had these nightmares for a while and now he no longer had to worry that much about his next meal - a carcass most of the time - but now that he had settled down, they returned. It was always the same dream over and over again, his mother's shouts and yowls and then all he could see was red, blood red. He didn't remember the details of his mother's passing and when he thought back to it, all he got was fog and nothing. Maybe it was a blessing or maybe it was a curse, the beast didn't know.

       The oversized feline spotted another bird nest just as his stomach began to growl. He had a taste for bird eggs and he was capable of reaching many nests by just rearing up on his hind legs to reach the lower branches. Occasionally the branches couldn't hold his weight - he learned it the last time - but he was slightly confident that it wouldn't end in disaster. The giant yearling wasn't quite a capable hunter on his own but eggs were easy to acquire.

       Even if there wasn't any eggs, the scarlet-eyed sabretooth was also in the need of feathers and he could find that in the bird nest. The beast padded up to the tree and reared up onto his hind legs. He was able to reach the lower branches with little difficulty and he braced one paw against the tree and placed one on the branch but with little weight behind it. There were no eggs to be found but there were feathers. The crimson-eyed creature began to pluck feathers out of the nest.
      

[Theron]

THERON
THERE'S A COLD BREEZE BLOWING OVER MY SOUL

The dire mix did not seek company often. He was a recluse. Scraping by on the fringes of the pack mostly on his lonesome. Yet his injury and subsequent encounter with Birch and Montay seemed to have drawn Theron out of his metaphorical shell a bit. Whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen. He was not a social sort, though perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he really was, but he was terrible at it. Not terrible in the ‘i am rude’ or ‘i have social anxiety’ sort of way - more in the ‘i leave mutilated rabbit corpses in royal dens’ sort of way.

He was still a bit sore and stiff from his injury, though little evidence of it was still visible. Days had passed. There was a scabbed wound on his breast but the fur there was dense enough it would take a rather close inspection to tell it was there at all. That was a good thing - injury implied weakness and Theron had a rather feral mindset surrounding such things. The injured made good prey. Though that fact seemed to cause him no anxiety. He padded along on well-muscled legs, his large paws doing an admirable job of keeping him from getting bogged down by the snow.

When the dire mix found another’s trail in the snow he lowered his head, curious, eyes as white as the snow around him peering intently at it. It was clearly not that of a wolf. He set one paw in one of the prints. It dwarfed his considerably. No claw marks. Some sort of feline then. Theron’s lips curled. A rustling sound to his left caught his attention and Theron’s head snapped up, suddenly alert. The trail was more recent than he had thought it seemed. He caught sight of the massive creature through the underbrush. What in the hell was a saber doing here?! Wasn’t the whole point of a border patrol to keep things like him out of here? He tensed, ready to bolt. He wasn’t terribly familiar with such creatures, but any predator bigger than Theron would have him on edge, particularly when he was already hurt.

Then the young wolf caught sight of the delicate pink and white blooms on the sabercat’s head. Instantly, without much thought, the dire gave a loud incredulous snort -- announcing his presence rudely.

[Perses]

You've got the words to change a nation but you're biting your tongue.
You've spent a lifetime stuck in silence afraid you'll say something wrong  
If no one ever hears it how we gonna learn your song?

       Perses was focused on the act of retrieving the feathers he sought from the nest, letting them drift to the ground where he would retrieve them when he was finished. He enjoyed decorating his body and it showed - a dose of vanity never harmed anyone - with the flower crown and the feathers woven into his mane. His large paws handled the feathers with an astonishing amount of gentleness that one wouldn't expect from a creature of his size.  A small pile of feathers was starting to grow and the beast's deep pawprint acted as a sort of bowl for the feathers.

       The sudden snort startled the cream and chocolate behemoth who was easily startled and accustomed to loud noises His weight shifted suddenly to his other paw - the one on the branch - and with a loud snap both branch, nest, and sabre fell to the ground. A soft, startled Oof, was forced from his maw as he suddenly found himself falling. The snow softened what could have been a hard fall and the giant yearling scrambled to his feet with the equivalent of a "deer in the headlights" look on his face as ruby eyes found the source of the sound.

       Confused carmine irises regarded the chocolate-furred wolf in front of him, his hackles rising in fear from the sudden shock but also unsettled by the ghostly eyes. The scarlet-eyed sabretooth didn't know what to do in this situation as the creature in front of him was different from the other Inarian wolves he had come across. They didn't seem as dangerous as the male before him, the scars and the grey eyes like some kind of warning sign. His head lowered in fear as he tried to figure out what to say. It took a couple of seconds for the crimson-eyed creature to decide that it would be best to remain silent.

Maybe we're a little different. There's no need to be ashamed
You've got the light to fight the shadows so stop hiding it away

[Theron]

THERON
THERE'S A COLD BREEZE BLOWING OVER MY SOUL

Theron took a few steps back as the saber fell. Seemingly just as out of sorts as he was. He wasn’t sure what to do in this situation. A part of his mind, the predatory part where Dragon’s upbringing still hissed urged him to lunge now - while the larger creature was down. Tear out its throat before it had a chance to recover. Capitalize on the mistake. Yet the gentle demeanor of the creature made him hesitate. And that hesitation bought the saber the time to recover.

The cat’s hackles bristled, and Theron’s head lowered, instinctually covering his throat. He feared for a moment he had made a grave mistake in hesitating but the sabretooth did not... do anything. Didn’t lunge. Didn’t flee. For a moment it was just two spooked idiots staring at one another. Then Theron seemed to recover from his surprise, recognize the fear in the larger creature’s eyes.

He took one step forward, then another. His pale eyes watched the cat carefully for any sign of aggression but saw none.

Perses was right to think Theron was nothing like the other Inarians at least. The large reddish-brown wolf lifted his head, sniffing at the sabrecat’s face. Then pulled back giving a slight, unreadable scoff. His eyes flicked between the somewhat scattered pile of feathers, the fallen nest, and broken branch.

”They’ll... let anyone in here, won’t they?” He said, his voice an ill-used low growl that sounded more hostile than he truly intended. He meant the words to be commiseration, after all, he was as ill-fitting as the saber cat was here. Perhaps even more so. It was not so obvious - Theron could blend in, but he did not fit in.