● falling from cloud nine [Huxley]

[VALE ROUX]

Wide amber eyes surveyed the golden land below warily, the end of a long curling tail twitching from side to side. A low rasping sound slipped from her throat, a sign of anxiety. The leopard knew she could not wait any longer, she was parched and the heat of the African sun seemed to drain every drop of moisture from her body. She sat in the relatively small Acacia tree, watching the waterhole from the safety of her position. Waves of cautiousness rolled through her mind immediately. Were there lions, no she was sure of that at least. A few had come and gone but from her acute senses she could tell there were none, it wasn't like they were hard to spot either. Lions were usually confident, arrogant beasts completely aware that they were the largest predators in the bush.

Vale Roux had had several close encounters with the sandy-hued felines, including a time when a whole pride had chased into a tree and trapped her there for hours on end. She would never forget that long, terrifying night, not ever. So she was right to be wary, had they caught her Vale had no doubt what they would have done to her. Ripped her into pieces, or worse. Yet lions weren't the only threat, other leopards could do some serious damage. Even smaller big cats could hurt her. She cursed herself silently, damn it V.. why were you born such a coward? Swallowing her fear, Vale took one last glance at the practically empty waterhole before embarking on her slow decent from safety.

Her retractable claws gripped the thick bark with ease, agile limbs scaling the vertical trunk without batting an eyelid. Softly she slipped to the ground, her paws sinking into the warm sand. Vale swung her small refined head from side to side, pricking her rounded ears and peeling her bright eyes for any sign of danger. It appeared to be clear and so she crept forward, slowly and silently. She slipped like a shadow from one tree to the next, from one patch of long grass to another until finally she reached the bank. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, her mind swam with uncertainty. The beautiful young leopardess slunk forward, taking a deep breath as she did and reached the waters edge at last.

[HUXLEY VANDERBILT]

Huxley knew a lot about being thirsty. Hungry, too. He spent most of his life in a state of semi-starvation: always too preoccupied to bother hunting for himself or to frequent the watering hole much, which was a real pity, considering that it was the only major source of water that he'd ever seen.

Probably, Huxley reflected pensively, the only source of water he'd ever seen. He'd never thought of it like that, but it was odd. Could there really be only one watering hole out there?

He dismissed the thought from his mind and it tumbled out of his oversized ears and wafted behind him like a ribbon of frivolous musings. He liked walking: it was one of his few talents. Flying was more of his style, given his current penchant for all things avian, but there was something really cathartic about just stretching out one's limbs, feeling the morning warmth bless one's skin, hearing that summertime symphony of the Kenyan birdsong. It was when he was walking that Huxley did most of his thinking, and so it won't surprise most that he didn't walk much.

Today, however, was an exception. The thirst had become a constantly burning reminder in the back of his throat, always clawing at his tonsils for attention. "Greedy little bugger," he muttered under his breath, concentrating on the stretch and spring of each of his sinews and reveling in it. Being old, he mused, must be awful.

At least he knew where he was going-- he'd been born and raised within the snug confines of this, of this... this what? Huxley blinked owlishly, nearly tripping as he hit the same mental wall that he had found himself face to face with earlier. What was this? Why was he penned in? Was there more... Outside? What was the Outside, anyway? Did that mean he was Inside? And...

"Gods help me," he moaned, swatting at his own tufted ear. He had to stop thinking about this nonsense. It was really beginning to get to him. All he need to focus on right now, he reminded himself, was water. Once he got rehydrated, everything would be back to normal, and the world would stop swimming in these absurdly bright colors.

He squinted at the gray-brown expanse of silty water ahead of him, scenting the thick hot air prematurely for any traces of animals nearby. Predators? Big cats? Prey? His hackles raised instinctively at the thought of a hippo. An angry one had bitten off his tail only a couple of years ago, and even now the lumpen stub twinged a resentful reminder. He had learned his lesson. He was going to be careful.

Huxley's steps slowed to a stop before the crater-like mud plain churned up around the watering hole itself. He stared distrustfully at it, his somber eyes searching for fresh telltale pawmarks in the thick soft earth. He couldn't smell anything behind the thick stale must of bull elephants and a recent herd of buffalo, but he knew instinctively that something had to be there. Why would the watering hole be deserted at noon on a hot summer's day?

Silently, Huxley unsheathed his claws into the mud. He couldn't wait any longer: the roof of his mouth seemed cracked, almost, like the sun-baked earth around him. It had been a couple of days since he had drunk last. Although caracals like himself could, he knew from experience, go for a while without hydrating, it was far too hot and he could almost taste the dirty water, warm and flat and so delicious between his lips.

He narrowed his eyes to orange slits and took a bold step forward, feeling his pawpads sink a couple of inches into the loam. He was so close and yet so far. Something here was very, very wrong. He could feel it.

And then, suddenly, he could see it-- a pale spotted shape, crouched at the water's edge. Large, with broad shoulders and a stocky build. Female or male? He couldn't tell, but it was certainly a leopard. It looked peaceable enough, lapping pensively at the shallow water, but Huxley knew better than to trust appearances. It was a cat eat cat world out there in the-- in the... in the jungle. Was this the jungle? No, it was... no.

He shook his head to clear it, clenching his teeth together indecisively. He had to stop thinking about this, it didn't matter. All that mattered was him getting something to drink. If that meant killing this leopard, then so be it. Huxley strode forward cockily, head held high and chest pushed outwards. He made certain to make as much noise as possible, shoving his way through the slick mud until he, too, was at the water's edge, but on the opposite side of the lake as the leopard.

Instead of lowering his head to lap amiably at the pond, he stayed standing, his dark eyes trained on her in what appeared to be a challenge.

[/justify]

[VALE ROUX]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; height: 494px; background-image:url(http://i49.tinypic.com/2njlm4l.png)] The three year old lowered her head, allowing her long salmon-hued tongue to lap up the murky water that flickered beneath her. Her bright eyes stared down into the dark depths, watching her moving reflection. Vale glanced away from the mirror image, unhappy with her build. She wished she was stronger, she wished she was one of those powerful, invincible males that could merely glance your way and send you scurrying for cover. To be honest, sometimes Vale wished she was a lion.. what did they have to worry about? The leopardess huffed inaudibly, flicking her ears back and forth in quick succession. To fall into relaxation here would be a crime, a terrible mistake. There was nothing safe about this harsh landscape, not even in the park, not that she knew she was completely enclosed. No, there was danger from hippos, lions, buffalo and all other unimaginable creatures. Having had her full, the female lifted her head to glance around. That was when she scented him, the breeze was blowing towards her and therefore carried the musky scent of a male caracal. Golden eyes burned brightly as her slender head whipped up, prickles of fear rippled down her spine and she couldn't help the instinctive low rumble deep within her larynx. Miss Roux spotted the golden chap as he appeared by the water's edge, and flattened her ears immediately. It was a clear sign of uncertainty and insecurity, others may have interpreted it as aggression but they were wrong. Vale was many things but violent was not one of them. However, she watched his body language and already she knew that his guy was something else. Vale detected the hostility from his bold glare, the claiming of space from the way he carelessly tramped across the wet earth. He was arrogant, self-assured and seemingly determined to get his own way. Vale doubted he would appreciate her presence, quiet and nonthreatening as it may be and so flicked her tail and immediately submerged into the reeds behind her. Her paw scaled the deep mud with ease, balancing her weight wonderfully , a professional at agility. Her silky spotted pelt blended into the surroundings with infinite perfection, and so felt somewhat comfortable with her camouflage. It was only when she was forced into the open, that Vale felt vulnerable and unprotected. Flitting through the long golden grass, the girl sensed something. Would the caracal follow her? The leopard's heart began to beat faster, no, she told herself, no why would he. Even so she couldn't help the adrenalin that suddenly exploded throughout her body and the fear that drove her to the nearest safe place. The tree closest was short and spindly, but it was something at least. Long slender limbs bounded across the barren space between and scaled the small plant quickly. Panting slightly, she sighed, safe at least. Yet the tree she had chosen was in clear view of the waterhole and more importantly; the caracal. Vale hoped and prayed that the smaller feline wasn't a fan of climbing.