Kit:
Zephyr did not have the patience to be a good hunter. He wasn't interested in stalking prey, or waiting, or getting the timing right. He also lacked the energy and build to run fast for long periods of time. But today he had luck. Not necessarily good luck, mind you, because his luck had brought him a boar.
The boar was angry. Which wasn't unusual, boars usually were, but this boar just flat out didn't like Zephyr. He wanted him gone, right out, no where near his territory.

Zephyr wasn't the least bit surprised by the boar's charge; there was something familiar, almost practiced about the way he dodged the charge and brought down his claws and teeth into the thick hairy back. He had done this before. The killing was familiar, the thick taste of blood...

He worried the carcass for some time after the boar was dead, in some red world beyond thoughts.

Geyser:
The woods were full of prey--not as full as they'd been since the base had been established, but still full enough for a small hunting patrol. With Purpley on a patrol around the borders of their impromptu territory, Zeezee found herself hunting with Root-Digger today. She caught his scent occasionally wafting through the trees in another direction somewhere--musty, full of unconscious malevolence like roots trying to strangle a nearby tree.
Malevolence. Red-eyed, sharp-toothed--but not a dragon. Not Zzzyxwe, whose eyes were also red, who was also sharp-toothed. No, this was a scent like their scents combined. A root-digger with a taste for blood.

The idea planted firmly in her mind memories of a rare taste, a taste fattened when the leaves burned and died, a taste that, beneath coarse hair, was pleasant. She didn't know or particularly care what the name of the creature was, but she knew there was prey in that direction, in Root-Digger's direction. She slipped through the trees as quietly as she could in his direction. Sure enough, the creature was dead, in pieces--Root-Digger was tearing and biting at it. Zeezee smiled. Such violence in a pack mate was to be treasured, such unabashed violence.

Kit:
Zephyr slowly started to come to, an unidentifiable hunk of meat in his mouth and blood trickling down his tongue. Blood, blood... it was hard to lay still, to get up and toss and shake his head, but he lay there, muscles tense. Spinning, spinning, the world was spinning and the trees were bending down above him and there, there, was another he couldn't smell above the scent of blood but he saw her and growled, deep and low, how dare she invade his territory!

But... yes, it was her, the burning one, the tree leaves, the highest daughter of the trunk of the forest. His growling eased off slightly, although a low rumble remained. Friend, yes, friend... he dropped the piece of meat in his mouth and pinned it with one foot, tearing out small pieces to eat and swallow, trying to satisfy the terrible hunger that filled him. But her, he watched, and less and less it was because he saw her as a threat. Burning leaves, burning leaves... there was something pleasing about her color and the way she moved.

Geyser:
The smell of blood shot straight up Zeezee's nostrils and into her brain, shutting off what little thoughts she had. Root-Digger was digging at roots inside the prey, and the mud that flowed up pleased her to no end. Yes, that was the way....stain the bones crimson, make them bleed, make the bones nothing more, rob them of their energy! She delicately stepped over to him, picked up the leg of one of the creatures and gave it a slow crunch, reveling in how the bones fractured and shattered, tickling the roof of her mouth. Blood flowed down her chin, marking her teal fur. Yes. Yes. Root-Digger looked different in this way, the white masked...white was death. Blood was life. Green was even more of it, the blood of plants. His markings, the brightness of its fur, it all spoke of movement, of higher violence for a higher cause.

The way he was acting and the way he looked...she didn't feel like this usually. There was something entrancing, there was something about the moment that had turned off her brain.

Kit:
The crunch of the bone shot through his head and Zephyr growled uneasily, not sure how to react. He could feel it in his own bones, the crack, the blood running down, the crimson stain on her fur, the shine, the blood blood blood. But it wasn't even the blood that got to him anymore. It ran down his throat, stained his face, matching red, but he felt another thing stirring, twisting inside. Still growling, deeper now in that place beyond words, he took a few uncertain steps towards her. Blood blood blood. Green blood, trees bleeding, raining down burning leaves and the blood twinkling down. He remembered another red one, another pool of blood, and growled angrily, frozen, waiting for movement, to see if she would run.

Geyser:
He watched her with hungry eyes that drank in the moment, and everything about her. Zzzyxwe returned the gaze with eyes that pushed cobwebs that clung to his face in her mind. He was trying to scare her--how quaint! Didn't he know that no one could scare her like this? Didn't he know that everywhere she went, there was a cliff, and it would be so easy to push him off, like anyone else? She had protection. And here, the bones were defeated, could be defeated, and there was life, clogging the nostrils, clogging the ears with the beat of an inner drum that burned like fire through a forest. She took a step forward. The drum wanted her to dance. Dance for life, dance for fire, dance to get away from the cold stone the body would become. Move. Prove to the bones that muscles were mightier, that blood could do so much more. Zzzyxwe dropped the leg of the hapless beast and licked her lips, leaning into Zephyr's face.

For once, she didn't know what to say. Not precisely. Let the thoughts flow like blood, let them flow, let them decide what to say! In the end, there was nothing to say. She just gave him a smile, a smile full of life and the relief that she hadn't yet lost her skin.

A relief to be in the forest, under the trees, where there was so much life to bring in to create more.

Kit:
She smiled, not what he had expected, and his growl cut off, replaced by what might be mistaken for a smile in return. She was his, all his, here in the land of bones beneath of the trees. He stepped towards her, almost running, but the distance was too small. The blood faded away, the bones faded away, all gone now washed and trapped away among the roots and swaying trees, seeing but unknowing, promising never to tell.