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It may have been the scent of a male lion that caught Kyra's attention, but more likely it was the more alarming scent of something being scorched, and that rasping sound like fire tearing across a field. Kyra had seen a brush fire on the savannah one night when she was a slave. It had terrified her and been the first and only time in her life that she had appreciated her captivity. The cheetahs and leopards who had enslaved her as a cub lived in a rocky land with an underground river that was completely safe from the danger of fire. Still, watching the land burn had been unforgettable. When she got older she had often imagined that same destructive force turned against those who had made her a slave.

This was clearly not the time to reminisce however. Either there was another male coming who would undoubtedly be dismayed about the corpse at her feet or there was a fire started somewhere, and Kyra would prefer to avoid both. She looked in the direction the wind was blowing from and found herself rooted to the ground as her pale blue eyes were met by a completely unexpected sight: that of a fiery, winged lion far larger than any lion had a right to be.

Seeing him, her emotions were torn between a desire to flee and a desire to attack, and while the latter was obviously utter foolishness, it kept her from actually turning tail and running. She stood her ground, waiting with a certain defiance for him to do something more than stand there stinking and smoking.

Aha...he could see her fear, and more. She desired to...attack him? Pitiful. Foolish. His jaged lip curled in a sneer as he eyed her over. Perhaps the male at her feet had provoked her? No. The blind desire to throw herself at him spoke of a deeper loathing. A female who hated males? Perfect.

"What's the matter dear? Cat got your tongue?" He rasped, flames dancing inside his throat. "It ssseems your friend there's had an accident." He sneered. "I appreciate your work, insssect. And that is why I shall forgive you for being sssso rude to me."

He stepped closer, grass drying, sizzling, burning under his paw. As soon as it lit it turned to ash, and so the land was spared from burning in a massive fire. Still the stench filled the air, tendrils of smoke dancing up, the naway as the great god breathed out, to crash against the frozen female's face.

It was funny how certain words carried certain connotations. The word "reek," for instance, clearly was meant to imply an unpleasantness to the scent of her emotions. As someone who could only smell emotions on the same basic level any feline could, Kyra couldn't really say whether whatever emotional odor she emitted was malodorous or not. She supposed it probably would be. But then it was confusing when he said that murder was becoming of her.

"I'm so glad you approve," she said. It wasn't easy to stand up to this god as she was doing, but she had never been the sort to give in to her fears. No one else was going to defend her, and so she had to defend herself, even if every instinct for self-preservation she had told her that it would be better to grovel and submit.

Barely she modified her next words into a more unoffensive form so that she would not find herself struck dead on the spot: "Although I did not kill him for your sake, I'm pleased that you are able to reap the good of it."

At least someone had enjoyed it. Kyra hadn't, really. And that was the problem. And his satisfaction probably meant that he would spare her. She didn't know what else life had to offer her, and while it would probably be just as wretched as her youth had been, she had no desire to end it just yet.

Well, at least she was trying to be sensible with her words. He distantly wondered what it was like, to be helpless. To see death before you and know you could not push it back if it chose to come for you. He could not fathom it, and a tiny voice in the back of his mind began to scream that if he killed everyone first (and no doubt he could) there would be no need to even consider the issue. He shook his head, long mane flying, shoving the voice back down deep inside. Not yet.

"You have served me well, little insect. And you will continue to do ssso. I feel the hatred burning in your soul. And I will spare you, until you ceassse to be of use." H grinned at her, then bent again to the body. He took a leg in his maw and wrenched, tearing it free at the hip. He bit down, a sickening crunch cracking through the still air. He flung the broken limb aside, to be a gift for Ubuge later. Greed always desired, even things of no worth like this. She would perhaps besated, and cease her yammering if he gave it to her.

"Run along now, insssect, before I decide your worth is less than the ire I feel suffring mortals. Keep to your killing, your sslaughter. Embrace it...Every life you end glorifies me, and should you stop...well. I will know. And I will not be pleased." He snorted, full of ego and self-importance, and returned to dessecrating the prone lion, acting as if the mortal had already gone.