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From the screeching and the yelling, Regina figured she was one of two things: More keen in hearing, or close to the boys who brought her here. Nonetheless, in a cage, that wasn't very useful. She dropped onto her hands and feet, circling her cage and trying to think of a way out. A tiny cloud of dust started to rise from where she was pounding onto the dirt, making her stop and snort it out of her nose. wait...

Dirt?

Regina frowned, and dug at a little part of her cage. It took a bit of work, the dirt was packed down hard. Probably from others like her walking around in the cage. Many, many others. But it wasn't too hard for her to dig. She grinned, tongue practically hanging out of her mouth, and bound over to the doors. She started digging under the cage, clawing at the dirt. After a couple minutes, the dog was covered in dirt, and her nails were clumped with it, but did she stop? Oh no.

Because now, there was a tiny hole under her cell door. Not that she could possibly fit through it, it was way too small. But it was a start. She kept digging.

The door to Nahuel's cage opened, and he lunged at it, only to be stopped by some unseen force.

"Hello, Jaguar," said the Macaw woman.

"Hello, Ranza," said Nahuel, who somewhere along the line had decided this was all an elaborate ruse plotted by his sister. The woman looked confused. Nahuel decided she was a few years too old and a few cup sizes too large to be his sister.

"You always were a feisty one," said the macaw woman. It was Nahuel's turn to be confused.

"Who are you?" he asked. "How do you know me?"

The woman smiled. Her beaklike lips parted to display rows of straight, perfectly human teeth. "I am your queen, Blue-and-Gold Macaw," she declared. "And you're Jaguar, a fierce warrior who has returned from a long journey."

Nahuel wondered if he had hit his head somewhere. If this was a dream, it was a very twisted one. But not entirely unenjoyable. Something about it appealed to the adventurer in him. And something about how little clothing the macaw queen was wearing appealed to the male in him. Never mind that she looked a bit like Ranza. "Alright," he said, settling back on his haunches. He had haunches now. Hm. That was a weird development.

"Jaguar, I might go as far as to say you might even be the fiercest warrior in the Amazon Kingdom," continued the queen. "You should be my champion."

Nahuel knew he should have said No. He had seen too many adventure movies not to. No, no, no! screamed his brain.

"Of course, your majesty," said Nahuel. The Macaw queen gave a little self-satisfied smirk and left.

The cage door closed.

Garrett had finally tired, but straight up refuses to degrade himself to becoming a vulnerable little grounded bird. So after searching the walls at great length, and pecking a little with his newfound beak, he helped create a big enough surface to perch on. Exhausted, the hawk boy pulls his wings up to where his ears might be, and falls into a still-alert rest.

And, of course, just as he dozes off, this is when the Queen enters.

He mechanically perks up as the doors slide open. He glares his golden eyes down at the woman a dozen feet down, his captor of majestically coloured feathers. A pang of envy hits him between bursts of anger.

"Come down, red-tail," she croons, beckoning most enchantingly. He twitches a little due to his misbehaving wings following the charm almost immediately.

She frowns when nothing else happens. Moving her feather covered hands to her hips, she tilts her head just enough to send a tussle of dreads across her bare shoulder.

"My darling," she tries again, "Always the silent type. So strong, and cultured. Perfectly calculating." A wicked smile crosses her full lips. "Thus, my most perfect warrior."

Whoa, what? Garrett ruffles his feathers and shifts his weight hastily from talon to talon. Who said anything about fighting? Sure, he likes to shoot arrows a little, and chasing the occasional bunny or wild mouse is fun, but..

It would seem the Macaw Queen isn't done spinning her web. "Oh," she cries mournfully, her words full of twisted venom, "If only I had your strength of will, and your ability of such precise flight. Won't you help me, hawk, won't you lend me your eyes, your wings?"

She shifts her weight a little, purposely, in the perfect pause for emphasis. "And your talons?"

Garrett's mind is clouded. The woman seems to sincerely need his assistance. He's torn between his initial gut instinct of despising the situation and the woman who put him here, to rolling with the punches and helping to please the Macaw Queen who so convincingly requested his assistance as a warrior. Maybe he is all those things she said, and more. Maybe.. maybe this is what his mom would approve of him doing. Yeah. Probably.

He swoops down and lands on the dirt in front of the Queen's feet. She follows the motion with her eyes, and watches Garrett do his best in his bird form to bow to her. The hawk boy brings his wing in front of his body and ducks his head a little in an affirmation of promise and acceptance. She smiles wickedly, and crouches just enough to be able to glide her arm feathers across his own, as a slight sign of affection.

And then she is gone, and Garrett is left standing on the dirt floor, bewildered by what a quick tongue was able to convince him to do.

She was Doberman.

Fierce and loyal, bloodthirsty and vicious. Turning on others gave her no feeling of guilt. Ripping out throats gave her nothing but pleasure at seeing her Queen's pleased face. Time had passed and she'd taken to fighting like a fish to water. The people around her, other warriors and civilians, were nothing but targets. Prey. Victims.

People worth killing to make the Queen happy with her. She learned to live and breath for that half smile that meant she'd done well. She woke up and fought and killed for a pat on the head, a fond look. Straddling the line between loyalty and love, she didn't care. Nor did she remember. She didn't dream of her life anywhere but here. She lived for the fight, for blood on her hands and in her mouth. She dreamed of the next victory.

This was her life. This was who she was. There was no doubt in her mind, no shred of memory of a woman who cared for her and a man who doted on her like the child he never had. Time seemed to fly by for the dog, who kept herself well amused to please her Queen. She picked fights to get in the Queen's good graces.

Time would come and she would fight. She would prove herself, carve a nitch in history for being the Queen's chosen. Other warriors were prey.

She wasn't willing to wait, but she would do so.

Because Queen Macaw bade her wait.

"Jaguar," says his queen, "Today is your final test."

Jaguar's heart hastens inside his powerful chest. He has been training for this as long as he can recall, the trial that will declare him as the true champion of the Macaw Queen, the knight who will represent her against all of Eden. He has hunted, he has run, and he has killed to reach this day. He has forgotten the child who swung on vines and wanted to be just like Indiana Jones when he grew up. He was never a child, was never humanlike. He is the essence of the beast.

The Macaw queen leads him from his cage - his den, rather, the place where he lurks between hunts - and through the twisting passages of the temple complex. They emerge briefly into sunlight and steaming air, cross a courtyard, and plunge back into the darkness. The ground beneath his feet slopes upwards.

Sunlight splits the world before him once again, and the queen is gone. Instead, at his side is Three-toed Sloth, one of the palace butlers. How long has he been guiding Jaguar? Jaguar is unsure.

All around them is the roar of the crowd. Sloth, contrary to all logic, hurries away as best a sloth can.

Jaguar's tail sweeps the ground. His claws test the soil beneath his feet. He waits for the test to begin.

When the door of his cage opens, at first, there is nothing. Hawk has trained himself to only be seen and heard when necessary. He turns his head mechanically, sharply, and observes his Queen from his makeshift perch. Immediately he straightens up, his feathers preened and his talons sharp.

"Come, hawk. It is time."

He waits not a second longer to swoop down to greet her. She smiles at him, and he is almost sheepish; he's never been so glad to have his stony, expressionless face before now. She leads him out, and pillars of light rapidly hit the hawk's body, and hers.

A slight motion to his left. Hawk catches everything of the sort, and so, he tilts his head just enough and peers into the darkness between solid flaps of his wings. Nothing. No threat. He flicks his head back again to note that the Queen is no longer herself, but a wild hog now leading him out.

The crowd hits him in a wave of sound, yet his training has abolished the need to flinch. He instead rises up, greedily taking in the new height provided to him. Today, reconnected with his beloved air, he'll prove his worth, and he will be victorious.

Where Jaguar had doubt, Doberman had none.

She eyed her opponents and, for a brief moment, flashes of a life that was not hers took over her mind, throwing her off. But like a stubborn dog, she shook her head and shook those thoughts aside. She had been given an order. Destroy these two and she would be the only champion in the eyes of her Queen. That was important. Not memories of a life that was not hers, would never be hers, should have never been there to begin with. She should have been here all along, training far longer then the short time she'd been in the Amazon Court with the Macaw Queen.

Doberman looked at Jaguar, then at Hawk. Hawk would be easier to take down when he was closer to the ground, but provoking him to get that close would take skill. Jaguar would be quicker, but probably harder. Oh well.

It was worth the challenge.

Doberman eyed Jaguar, starting to sneak towards him. He was distracted. It would not prove to be a good move on his part.