#bghra

@bghra

“It is my right to kill as I please.” 

The beast’s tone was cold. Challenging. He approached deftly, his claws gouging the ground as he closed the distance, already unsheathed in anticipation of combat. Few creatures of the jungle dared speak to him in anything less than the most deferential of tones, and even then some had not survived the experience. The tiger had long outgrown the juvenile notions that governed the other peoples of the jungle. The law was nothing to him. He was the CHIEF of tigers, the beast who had tasted the red flower and lived to hunt another day. Men, cattle, and jungle folk alike should count themselves honoured to fall beneath his fangs.

He stopped a scant few paces from the panther, pausing as a faint scent catches in his nostrils. His snout wrinkles, and for a brief moment great yellow fangs are exposed to the world. A short-lived jolt of unease pangs in his chest, for the scent is almost that of man. But the odour vanished as soon as it appeared, and the beast was once again bearing down upon the smaller creature, his visage twisted in a mask of contempt.  

    warm  olive  eyes  crinkle  at  the  corners  for  her  dear  friend,  a  smile  lining  merilin’s  lips  into  a  gentle  curve.  her  head  tilts  curiously  at  the  man.  ❝ i  see  how  good  you  are  with  them.  i'd  even  dare  say  you  seem  fond. ❞   she  teases  good - heartedly, in  mild  undertones  of  mischief  reserved  solely  for  those  with  whom  she  feels  most  familiar.  

THE  FIRE  IS  LIT.  the  light  flickers  and  wood  smoke  fills  his  nostrils  like  an  earthy  perfume.  he’s  putting  on  a  white  shirt  that  looks  almost  like  a  dove’s  wings,  fancy  jacket  discarded  to  rest  against  the  back  of  a  fallen  log.  HE  DOES  NOT  DARE  TO  MEET  IN  THE  CITY.  and  creatures  in  the  trees  do  little  more  than  keep  his  eyes  pre-occupied  with  wonder.  

“But why? Why are they scared of it? It’s plants and trees and water and...and...and animals.” Why bother explaining it to Bagheera if he already knew? Everyone in the village did. They all knew what the jungle was like. Why all the fear though? “Do you think if I bring everybody from the village to the jungle they’d like it, or I can bring the jungle to them so they can go home if they want to. That way they’d feel safe.” Mowgli sighed softly as he walked towards his sandals, strapping them onto his feet, which felt extremely uncomfortable, yet he knew to fit in he’d have to wear them outside. “I’m gonna go try and play, is that okay Bagheera?”

                   Old friends, old wounds. How far they grew from their childhood and how far they continue to grow. One scorned by man, another with such compassion for their life. They grew to be so different then what they once were. The jungle changes people, animals aren’t excluded, you learn how to survive and you adapt to it. The same goes for the tiger and the panther. Their story of friendship ended long ago, never to rekindle itself. 

The tiger groaned lowly, swatting at a beetle that was bugging him in the tree he guarded. The lively tree he stayed in often, it was his territory, so he said. He often didn’t warrant his territory since his territory was HIS and his alone. Many others could smell him, scent him, so he usually didn’t need to enforce what land he claimed for himself.