[FIN] CHOMP (Bitterleaf and Frenzy)

[lostandtold]

Hungry.

It was barely less than a day after the filly had finally opened her eyes to find herself able to see, and she was gnawing on bark and leaves alike as she tried to appease the deep, empty pangs.

She was so hungry, in fact, that when she spied a tuft of something dark blue and soft-looking, Frenzy didn't think twice.

CHOMP.  

[Rejam]

It is entirely possible that a lesser doe would have screamed aloud in the position Bitterleaf now finds herself in--which is to say, with her head half-buried in the hollow of an old trunk as she pursues a tasty-looking skink, and unknown teeth sunk into her tail and pulling earnestly. She jumps, true, but she can hardly be faulted for this. Instead of gracelessly clocking her skull on the trunk or yelping, Bitterleaf quickly and calmly extracts head from the tree and turns to sum up her attacker in one swift and studied movement. The others, on patrol with her, are out of shouting distance, enjoying some space and privacy. This will have to be a solo battle. This will be a test of her strength and her skills. Already it has the advantage. It--

it's a filly. Well, that's something.

Bitterleaf's pale eyes fixate on her predator with the kind of maternal glare that pushes instinctive buttons in the young. It is not for nothing that Bitterleaf is known to so many as Mother.  

[lostandtold]

Not tasty. Frenzy pulls a face, letting go. And then, like magic, the rest of the not-tasty appears from inside the tree. It is, she realizes, a kimeti like her, but taller and more graceful. As pale blue eyes land on her, Frenzy takes a step back on awkward, gangly legs. The glare hits something instinctive, and her ears go back, flat against her skull, before she bares her teeth. She is hungry -- ravenous -- starving -- and that overrides caution.  

[Rejam]

Bitterleaf's expression becomes strained, a veneer of disapproval over amusement, even a sense of being impressed with the little thing's ferocity. That's exactly the sort of thing Bitterleaf likes to see. This one is a bit older than her usual target, but perhaps for the best.

Very carefully, Bitterleaf turns in place, a graceful little dance on four legs, and then, neatly as a frog's tongue lashing at a fly, she extends her neck and bites, hard, on Frenzy's nose. Hard enough to bruise, but just soft enough not to break the skin. Eye for an eye.  

[lostandtold]

Frenzy yelps, jolting back, but her legs refuse to obey her intent and she falls flat on her backside. Her entire face scrunches up as her mind catches up, registering the pain and the bruise on her nose.

Of course, she can't let that go unanswered, so she scrambles back up and lunges on ungainly feet, trying for another bite.  

[Rejam]

Luckily, Bitterleaf has refereed many a gangly-legged wrestling match. It is the work of a moment to plant a hoof firmly on the filly's back, with a pressure that says, although she does not: "If you do not stop, your spine is a fragile thing." She is eerily sincere, as though she would not hesitate to push--snap.

She doesn't, though. She just puts that hoof down and reaches and and bares her teeth right in the filly's face. "This is not a battle, little thing. You wronged me, and I took my due. We are balanced again and there is no need to start another conflict. Never aim for more trouble than you can handle." Bitterleaf's voice is throaty and alarmingly deep; it's coarse but slinky; it sounds like a shining black snake sliding over a dry stone.  

[lostandtold]

The sudden pressure of a hoof on her back makes her wobbly legs go out from under her, and Frenzy makes a sound like a hiss as she falls flat, legs splayed. Bitterleaf's intent goes across loud and clear, and she freezes, ears still laid back. The baring of teeth makes her recoil, but only to get enough room that she can bare her teeth back, ready to retaliate.

The voice is much, much deeper than hers, or what she remembers of her own voice from the moments of fear after her hatching, the first and only time she would bleat in vain for her mother. She gets her legs under her to wobble to her feet.

"No more battle. I'm hungry." It's an assertion, not an excuse, and she eyes Bitterleaf warily. "Do you know where food is?"  

[Rejam]

"There is food everywhere. It isn't a problem of mine if you can't find it." The doe drags a chipped, battered hoof through the mud, stirring up a cloud, and in it, minnows dart to and fro against the filly's legs. She tosses her head at a clump of luscious leaves that is dangling perhaps three inches too high for the filly to reach, but she doesn't offer to obtain them for her. "Don't just lunge blindly at everything. Stop. Look. Think. Smell. Use your senses, not just your hunger."  

[lostandtold]

Frenzy listens, following Bitterleaf. The leaves are too high for her to reach, even if she jumps -- and besides, the minnows remind her of her dream, the dark shapes coiling under the water, and she knows, without knowing why, that they are tasty. She eyes their movements, focusing intently on them, ears swiveled up to keep listening to Bitterleaf.

To and fro, back and forth, here and--

Snap!

She might be young, but she has a powerful jaw and a predator's instincts, and the moment she can feel the fish wiggling between her teeth, she flicks her head back to swallow it. For a moment, the ravenous hunger lessens.  

[Rejam]

"What's your name, then?" asks Bitterleaf, striking out in a random direction with the full expectation that the filly will follow. They typically do. The dull gleam of the mark on her shoulder pulses in the dappled shadows.  

[lostandtold]

"Frenzy." She stumbles after Bitterleaf. The next time she tries to snag a minnow, it slips out of her mouth while she's tilting her head back, and it's lost before she can grab it again. No matter; now that she's seen Bitterleaf stir up the mud, she does it herself as she follows. There are always more minnows -- and the hunger is always there.  

[Rejam]

"Appropriate," is Bitterleaf's brief reply. Well, there's business to be done. Bitterleaf is technically on a recruitment patrol, and while old habits die hard, she should at least make an effort. "Guess where I come from, Frenzy."  

[lostandtold]

Now that she's partly full, Frenzy is much calmer. She eyes Bitterleaf again, thinking. "Your sac."  

[Rejam]

A snort. "Accurate, but I meant more recently."  

[lostandtold]

"I don't know. Where are you from?" It can't be too close; Frenzy had hatched nearby, and she had slowly eaten her way outward in a circle.