Her slender yet deceptively powerful legs sprinted her across the terrain and through the forest, now dense jungle, with ease and spry, though she did not know the way at all: This was the territory of the family governing the Western forests.
She headed North East till the line of the mountains that split the border between the Western family and her own, back into her own well-traversed lands.
She stopped atop one of the foothills leading up to the shimmering snow peaked caps of the mountains that where so close to reuniting her with her lands yet that posed a large obstacle between fugitive, trespassing, and freedom.
She opened the light sack she had fashioned before leaving the meadow, made of roughly woven moist reed-roots that tightened as they dried. In it where fruits resembling a mango, except it shimmered in the sun; the empty hull of a coconut-like plant, for scooping cool water to ease the temperature of her head.
She tore upon the flesh of the mango-like fruit and sunk her teeth in, fangs slightly retracting to allow for easier consumption, she tucked the brunette curls that where causing a a problem for her sustenance, keeping them clean with her dry hand. She quickly made her way to a stream that she could hear bubbling away down the basalt-ed rocky mountain. The pine trees that grew where gaunt and twisted, almost sagging back to the ground in places due to the strife that the harsh and unforgiving winds wreaked upon the stark hillside.
Oh how different my country is to this picture of utter despair; lush, dense, thick tangled foliage, tall narrow but strong trees pushed to the top of the canopy which made a comfy bed for the night with a view of the stars, hints as to the coming day. Bushy shrubs served the undergrowth to maintain the thick, heavy, humid air, and higher than these shrubs grew evergreens that struggled on the little light the canopy let in, but they made do well with what the had growing bushy thick, and almost flatly out, sending probing tendrils of greenery nearby to cling to other things upon which to grow towards. Very often two trees would grow to close together and cling to one another and one would overcome the other leaving it's inferior to rot and provide further sustenance for its survival.
The twisted vicious circle of life taunted at her thoughts and dampened her spirits as she climbed the rocky hills in preparation for scaling the sheer rock faces of the mountains. It wasn’t' so much the countryside that caused her vibes to make it slowly start to rain, more just the sinister way it gave her goose bumps to think about it. But she didn’t' let such trivial and unnecessary human emotions plague her, and she remained the confidant, cocky, seductive and sensual façade that her line of business required.
She revelled in the fact that she and her kin remained atop the food chain of this circle that autonomously ran things. "How much of anything do we even have control over? Things like that just happen, the circle fed itself. It's a switch that just cant' be turned off, and what, amongst the awe inspiring calamity of organised chaos that is this existence is the purpose of my being? And then she remembered. Remembered her purpose and motto.
Her spirits lifted as she hit the first of many treacherous climbs up rocky slopes. "Isn't that the very way of my people? We strangle and take control. Assert power. Win. Survive. The purpose of her being and existence was to Strangle, take control. Assert power. Win. Survive.
She was trained to kill, that she may live. *Bang* or *slice* or *shove*, and the malicious circle is served another meal.