Mount Jaar

Loose soil, towering primitive trees, scattered rocks of every shape and kind and a chilly feeling. Pretty simple, this land was becoming even more unwelcoming each second that passed. Parched leaves and fallen crimson branches with hints of agouti and tortured brown, thick underbrush embraced by splotches of mixed faded green, the perfect melancholy theme. Slate gray clouds and a thick quilt of fog touching the ground, pleasant, wouldn't you agree?

A pair of tepid eyes had already started to scan the 'land of the dead'--dead, indeed it was so silent, silent... overwhelmingly silent. Only a few concessional chirps could be observed dying and resurrecting themselves in the distance where his eyes could not reach--dim light covering the trees ahead had deemed their location impossible. A deep growl was constantly heard from his lungs, he couldn't bear it anymore. The land and his poor mind had already started to turn against him. With every movement all he could hear and see were shadows, shadows of purple, black and gray--was he dreaming? Was this just another hallucination maybe? A trick of sorts? No, no, no, no, no... This could not be, he was sane, right? Right? The last bit of his phrase kept dancing in his head "Sane, sanity, sane, sane, sane... sane..." Was he sane really? Was his mind stable, was it able to hold its ropes to avoid collision? Unknown, unknown... unknown, such thing was unknown--uncertain. Maybe it was just the lack of light and the general mood that forced him to hear things, yes... maybe it was just this.

Whipping his head around, the lad continued on, insecure steps marking his way. This portion of the land was something he had not before seen, everything here was so dead and silent... silently dead as someone would characterize it. An occasional few squirrels could be seen leaping from one tree to another with remarkable speed; at least they kept him company. Ah yes, company such a pleasant bundle of words... Someone would always be there to keep him company, even if this was for a few mere seconds. Someone would always be there, let it be that Blonde male who he managed to nearly scare off in the first place or that childish gal carrying the name of Ceara, either of them would do--they were always there for him. Well, at least in the future they could be?--Question-mark... a dull question-mark was observed on the end of this lingering inquiry. Even on that he was unsure.

Thump, thump, thump.... a mixture of constant pacing and observing was what kept him busy throughout his Sunday walk revolving around an endless dying, flat gray land untouched by man's destructive paws--paws? Was it paws? A raised eyebrow could be observed on his visage. "P-paws?" a quiet muttering was accompanying his ever-moving silhouette. "Paws it is then..." another chirp of his voice followed shortly after--it was pointless to think of that, it wouldn't be of any help in his search for that odd plant Brume mentioned hours ago. In his memory it was red... or pink? Pinkish red maybe? "Screw it" a sore frustrated snort claimed its freedom as his jowls parted, signalling his head to kick-start a violent sake. He'd find that plant no matter what, be it pink or red he'd find it eventually.

Reaching a densely wooden area, Agahi came to a stiff halt, paws and claws trying to grab each and every particle of that forsaken unstable ground beneath him to make his body stop. There it was, that... that plant--that pinkish red plant he'd never before seen in his life. Its petals seemed to be oddly long with an impressively large core rested in the middle--that was it... probably. Noting that in his mind, he arched his neck forward towards the piece of green, pink and pale red with a curious nature surrounding his gestures. Studying the pinkish purple organism didn't take long, after all it was clear what he had to do; bring it back to Brume and the rest of the medics. A quick snap at the bottom of its roots was what followed and with that, the lad spun around headed back the way he came.

Confusion and a touch of dread was what followed next; a foreign aroma, a scent which kept becoming stronger and stronger by each passing second had alerted his senses. He was no longer alone, someone kept him company, someone he couldn't place on his visual field... A ghost, a phantasm. A panicked snarl rushed itself out of his lungs, who or what was the origin of this peculiar aroma? Was it a feline, another canine? A... dog? What was it? The cracking sound of wood made him snap out of his fantasies, what was once invisible to his mere eyes was now descending down an aged bleeding tree rested to his right. Rugged fibers of beige and cinnamon was what he could see rested on top the shadowy figure. Zeroing in, a pair of copper colored orbs with pupils so small, barely visible to the eye were noted. It was clear now, it was a mountain lion, a big feline resulting in a high risk. What had once started as a search for herbs had now ended as a death sentence. The land was claimed by the cat rightfully--it was its land now, the lion had every right to get rid of any trespassers who disobeyed the laws set in stone.

With fur set on end and hackles raised, Agahi's jaws forced out another snarl, a warning if you may. Saliva oozing down his chin and thorax could be observed with ease, he wasn't going to submit this easily. With the feline roughly the same size as him the fight would be fair considering their mass was about the same, but with the cat outweighing him greatly. Scathing was what followed, it was obvious neither one of them were backing down, the feline had the advantage--it was about time after all. How long could Agahi hold on with an opponent possessing a much greater amount of brute force? Not long as the facts quickly convinced him, he was pinned on the ground with a collection of bulk and plain muscle on top of his chest. Raves both originating from his ruffled opponent and himself broke the scenery's silence--neither of them wanted to be on the bottom of the food chain, jowl snapping, scathing, scarring, there was a word for everything that took place on top some parched autumn leaves.

Crack... bones, bones breaking--the chilling bone breaking sound reached the ears of every soul which dared to cross their way. One of them had fallen, one of them could no longer stand on their feet and head the way their hearts longed--home. One of them was a feast for the crows, a blessing for any scavenger. Agathor, as Ceara would refer to him was the one... The one who lost the fight, the one whose sword broke during the battle, the helpless little rabbit who never reached home.