For hours—for eons—the tiger ran after the tail of the fire serpent. It crossed rivers and fields, and ran onward and onward through the night. Time did not make sense to it, but it was still lost in a drug-induced haze. The base of the mountain loomed ahead, a gargantuan monolith of rock and earth, but the snake did not tarry and rushed up the mountain. Behind it the tiger followed, trusting its instincts, its feet, the snake it followed. Then, suddenly, there was darkness.
The tiger slowed, moving with silence as it walked. Green eyes gleamed in the darkness, pupils wide and terrible. It knew it walked on borders but paid them no heed. Large paws crossed a pile of stones and flowers and the cat-beast moved with dire purpose towards the source she knew would be close. Ankh. Wretch. Black lips pulled back from gleaming fangs as the painted beast neared its prey, ever silent and ever terrible.
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