Post by Bhaskar on Oct 28, 2010 20:31:57 GMT -7
Cast:
Nithya (Juve. Black Clouded Leopard)
Shikaara (Adol. Tiger)
------
Raging River
The river rages here over boulders in frothy rapids flowing from the west and rushing toward east. Its depth and powerful current make it dangerous for all but the largest beasts -- elephant, rhinoceros, water buffalo and guar -- even during the dry season. Regular monsoons cause it to swell regularly, leaving an exposed, vast bed of rock, boulder and sandbars during the dry season. The steep banks outside of this manage to contain most monsoons, held fast by tangly roots of teak, mango, tea, jambul and other trees and well-rooted brush. This east-west stretch of the river marks the northern edge of a rainforest which continues thickly south of here; not far from the river's edge into this forest lurks a massive Banyan tree, not tall but sprawling out over tens of meters. To the north, the trees are thinner and -- during an offshore breeze -- the stank of peat would indicate a marsh to the north. Downstream to the west, the river can be seen taking a bend southward (toward the southwest of here). A stream to the west and a near sub-horizon to the northwest would indicate a possible lake to the northwest.
------
Though the forest is never exactly a dry place, the air has been more humid lately and it's carried the scent of heavier, encroaching rains. The monsoon is coming. Having retreated into the upper canopy of a soaring teak tree, Nithya sits alone on one of its branches and peers out through a break in the leaves. The late afternoon sky is pregnant with heavy, slate-grey clouds, and, far in the distance, the boy can see a flash of lightning. The storm might burn itself out before it gets here, but he doubts it. He can feel its strong presence in his bones, an almost physical pressure.
Hunting for himself was hardly familiar enough to be easy, for Shikaara - and that was when he was perfectly healthy. Now, with his body aching with half-healed wounds, he's been trying without success for several hours already. And the weather is getting worse - if he doesn't catch something soon, he's going to be out of luck, hungry and drenched. He finds another trail, of a young chital doe - but he gives himself away too soon, and the creature flees before he's managed to get into position. He gives chase, crashing through the brush, but the deer is too quick for him. He's soon panting, as the fleet creature escapes him, and one of the injuries on his flank has re-opened, starting to drip blood down through his fur as he lumbers to a stop beneath a teak tree. He snarls. "Misbegotten son of a flea-bitten..." and then he trails off into a wordless growl, his tail twitching as he stands there, panting.
His gaze takes an inevitable turn south, where he can occasionally catch a glimpse of the ocean on clearer days, but visibility isn't with him. All that's on the coastal horizon are more clouds, perhaps even thicker there since the marine layer has hung around all day. Nithya watches it with a wistful sort of longing anyway, right up until his ears twitch in response to some commotion on the ground far below him. Startled, he peers around the edge of his branch in time to see an enormous orange and black animal slide to a halt at the base of the tree. What /is/ that? It's wounded and panting and clearly angry. Wary, but curious, he slips down to a lower limb to watch Shikaara more closely. And then to a lower one, though still quite out of the tiger's reach, his claws dislodging a small amount of bark as he moves.
Shikaara takes in a deep breath, and then another, until his breathing is almost steady. He'll catch something, and then he'll - wait. Is there someone else here? There's a bit of bark, falling through the air, and his ears twitch, going back against his head as he looks up. Scratches from claws mark across the muzzle that's wrinkled up to scent the air, his body tightening again, ready to - attack? Flee? Anger and fear war over his posture as he looks - but black is hard to spot, as he scans amidst the tree-branches. He's silent, for a moment - but it's too late for stealth, now, after the noise of his approach, and so he calls, "Who's there?"
From this vantage point, even though Nithya's view is mostly of Shikaara's back and his raised, injured muzzle, he can quite tell he's been outed. And the unknown feline looks angrier now, for all that he also seems uncertain--to a creature as small as he is, the idea that a tiger would have something to be frightened of is unthinkable. Almost as much as the idea that Mridula would ever be scared of anything, say. So anger it is, he decides, and when Shikaara calls out he certainly isn't going to answer! Nithya even shrinks back along the limb, edging farther into the shadows, but a stray bit of light glints off his eyes as he does so.
Shikaara looks around, but he's turned the wrong direction at first, and by the time he turns, the feline has slipped back further to the tree, out of sight. He snarls again, his tail flicking in growing concern. Someone, something is here... and he doesn't know who, he doesn't know what. And that makes him worried. He's being stalked. Again. And he doesn't know who - doesn't know it's just a much smaller cat. The last time he was hunted... he barely escaped alive. He starts to back away, body lowered down towards the ground as he tries to back off from... whatever this is.
That snarl, to Nithya as loud as rolling thunder, only makes the boy more nervous. He flattens himself against the bark, his ears slicking back, and watches with wide, unsure eyes as Shikaara backs away. Is he leaving? He's sinking into a crouch, almost to his stomach. Oh, dear. Maybe he's going to charge the tree and try to come up here! Nithya had thought he was up high enough to be safe, but looking down at the tiger and realizing that he has no idea how high Shikaara would be able to jump makes him reconsider. And so, seconds later, he explodes out of hiding and races up along the teak's trunk to another branch. There he stands, regarding the tiger below with no small amount of apprehension. "You're not getting up here!" he calls just in case Shikaara thought otherwise, as if saying it will make it true. (And it is true, but he doesn't know that for certain.) And to think that if he'd just kept his mouth shut and stayed put Shikaara probably would have left without incident, saving them both from further confrontation.
Shikaara stops in his retreat, eyes flitting to the blur of black-furred motion, to the sound of a young voice. He relaxes, just a little. That's not the sound of tigers preparing to attack him. Maybe it's a trap, but... it seems unlikely. He peers up into the branches, the anger and fear starting to fade. "No... I'm not," he calls back, staring in. He thinks he can make out the shape now, dark amidst the branches. "Who are you?" he asks again, and then, a few moments later, adds, "I'm Shikaara." Maybe a name will make the little... feline, he thinks?... a bit more comfortable and ready to respond to him.
"You're not," Nithya agrees at once. He tries to keep his voice firm, brave and stern like he imagines Mridula's or his parents' would be, but what he mostly sounds like is relieved. His eyes catch the light again as he shifts uncomfortably, trying to decide the best way to approach this now that Shikaara, at least, has relaxed. He thinks that Mayur would speak to the tiger. Ila would speak. Mridula would speak. With the probable reaction of his caretakers weighted against his fright, he makes his decision: he'll act as they would. "I'm Nithya," he starts, "son of Mayur and Ila." And then, as the names of his parents' parents and every ancestor before that all rise to his mind with the ease of long bloodline-drills, he cuts himself off. "You're a tiger, aren't you?" he adds instead, and though he still seems ill at ease there's something sly in this question. He's never seen one before, but he's heard enough descriptions of them in stories to recognize one.
Shikaara catches the glint of light, and nods slightly to himself as he gets a better sense of the creature up in the tree. Small, yes, and feline - the voice's tone helps with that bit, too. And probably not a threat... he hopes. The names spoken mean nothing to him, but he nods again. He can't help but smile at the question, and the way it's delivered. Now that he's relaxing, he seems to be friendly enough. "I am. My mother's name is Vaktaa..." it's only fair, to give his parentage in response - though he could hardly manage the huge list. The thought of family, though, makes a soft growl rise in his throat unbidden, not quite given voice as he drops his gaze, staring down at the ground. Enough. This is not the place for his anger. This child doesn't deserve it. Still, it's a few long moments before he manages to calm himself enough to be willing to look up again.
Whether he actively intended to or not, the fact that Shikaara has given a name from his own family puts Nithya on more comfortable, familiar ground. This is normal to him, the exchanging of lineages, and it makes Shikaara seem more normal by association. Tigers have parents; there's more to them than huge fangs and terrifying noises. Reassured, Nithya opens his mouth. He doesn't get out more than a squeak before Shikaara's entire mood changes again, and though it's rather useless to try and conceal himself now he lowers himself down again. "Sorry," is all he can think of to say, his resolve wavering. "It's just, um--I was up here and I heard you and I didn't know what was going on so I came down to see!" The words all run together, barely a pause between them for breath or punctuation, explaining himself as hastily and anxiously as he would if he was in trouble with an adult of his own kind. Of course, even an adult clouded leopard couldn't eat him in one bite.
Even the apology is a frustrating reminder to Shikaara. He can't even hunt well enough, let alone fight... even a child can see him. No wonder he couldn't save his sister - oh, tigers have parents, yes, and entire families... and aching wounds where family has been torn away. As well as more physical injuries - his flank is still aching as the drip of blood leaves a brown mat in the fur. But he manages to hold on to his temper, this time, though his tail keeps up a restless twitch. He's angry, yes, but not at Nithya. And he didn't mean to frighten the smaller cat, he just... couldn't help it. His ears lay flat, abashed. "No. I'm the one who should be sorry..." he replies back. "You didn't... you're not who I'm angry with."
An older leopard, one more experienced with tigers and their arboreal limits, would be more difficult to intimidate. Even if Shikaara had wanted to hurt him, Nithya would really have nothing to fear as long as he keeps to the upper branches. But there's a difference between knowing something intellectually and really understanding it, and it's clear that the boy is at least half-skeptical. The other half of him, the part of his brain that's not so primitive, that can override thousands of years' worth of ingrained survival instincts, is intrigued. Nithya hesitates, then slides halfway off of his branch, dangling in midair by his hindfeet and long balancing tail. It's a compromise, of sorts--a way to get a better look at Shikaara without actually coming too much closer. He doesn't say anything right away, only inspects the older cat with a frowning, pitted brow (although it might be hard to see on his dark face). His nostrils flare: he can smell the blood from here. Once more he hazards a guess instead of asking for an explanation. "Are you angry at who did that to you?" he ventures, his claws digging into the trunk to anchor him in his odd, squirrellike position.
Shikaara wouldn't attack the younger leopard even if he could, not that Nithya knows that. But a bit of caution is certainly useful for... well, staying alive. He looks up at the dangling feline, getting a better look for himself, as well. Odd, that dark fur on that dextrous frame - not something he'd seen before. But definitely small, and young... oh, now he feels like a bully, snarling at a little kitten like that. His tail starts to slow, calming in its twitching as the two felines regard each other. "Yes," he simply replies. That's part of it, at least; though there's a stronger reason for his anger. If it was simply his own injuries... he was bound to get into a fight, sooner or later as he sought for territory. But to be attacked, out of the blue, by those who sought not merely to drive him away, but to kill him - who killed his sister... oh, there's a lot of pain and anger, there. His mouth opens again, then closes. He has not the words to speak of it, though tangled emotion is clear on his features.
The cub nods, at that, his golden eyes solemn but perhaps a bit less apprehensive now. He's never been attacked by anyone; he's never even scuffled with other children for fun. Falling out of trees and getting scratched by the occasional thorny or too-sharp branch are the only sorts of physical injuries that Nithya has ever experienced in his short lifetime. But if somebody /did/ attack him, he'd be angry--and it's a boon to know that Shikaara's anger is directed at someone else. "Oh," he murmurs, and to his credit he doesn't ask why they injured Shikaara; that would be a difficult and painful question to answer, since there was really no logic behind the assault. "I'll bet it's hard to get around." Also to his credit, he doesn't launch into an explanation of how he'd bruised his ribs once when he misjudged a jump and could barely walk for a week afterward; he simply comments.
Shikaara barely hears Nithya's reply, at first. Oh, Abhishapta... his lips form the name, without quite giving it voice. His expression is more pain than anger, now, and after a few moments, he gives his head a little shake to clear it, looking back up to the dark feline. "It... it's better, now, than it was." And that's quite a statement, given that he's still limping and bleeding. The anger has left pain visible in its wake, though there's still a wariness that's not surprising, given his current state.
The frown is back on Nithya's shadowed brow, but there is, perhaps, a measure of concern in it now. He may not know how to differentiate a young tiger from an older one, having never seen an older one to make a proper comparison against, but pain is a universal expression and he can see the stress on Shikaara's face even from here. Though he's still cautious, he's also not without heart. His elders might be inclined to leave an injured tiger to his own business, but Nithya was raised with parents who were empathetic towards him and he sees no reason why he shouldn't extend that courtesy to non-leopards. He slips down along the trunk, coming to rest on a slightly lower branch, and tips his head. "Can you hunt?" he adds suddenly. Perceptive boy, now that he's calmed down.
Shikaara lets out a sigh, at the question. Oh, he's been trying to hunt. But it's hard to stalk properly, and he doesn't have the stamina for the chase, and... "Sort of..." he says. He's a bit too proud to want to admit that the proper answer should be 'No' - that the last time he ate, it was by frightening away carrion-birds from a day-old kill, and tugging off those bits of flesh that weren't so far gone as to make even his growling stomach revolt. He's getting better, but he's still far from healed, and without a great deal of luck, or aid, the slayer of his sister may manage him as well, during this time.
Though Shikaara may not want to admit outright that he's having difficulties, Nithya is a young boy and, while he's mostly an obedient one, he knows a half-truth when he hears one. 'Sort of' is what he says when his mentors ask him if he's done an exercise that's completely slipped his mind. If Shikaara is watching him closely he might see the little feline's ears perk in comprehension. "Well," he starts, and then pauses. His long tail taps against the branch he's poised on. "Wait here?" he adds a moment later, and then springs off into the upper canopy again, vanishing from sight.
Shikaara is unpracticed at deception, but he still has enough pride not to want to admit some things right out. But he doesn't entirely mind that the young clouded leopard seems to have figured it out anyhow - there's a difference between being reluctant to admit weakness, and being foolhardy. He doesn't have a chance to reply, before the smaller feline darts off through the branches - but he stares at where he was, and hesitates a moment before shaking his head to empty space. It might be a trap, but... it probably isn't. And even if it is, his tracks would be clear enough. So... hope, instead of fear, wins the struggle for his reaction. Though he does back away a little, into a small clump of brush, before he settles down and begins to groom the drying blood from his fur while he waits.
If it is a trap, it's a very strange one. Would the Ran Garjana use a clouded leopard as bait, much less a cub? It seems unlikely. Equally unlikely is the possibility that there are adult leopards waiting to spring; Shikaara may be an injured adolescent, but he's still a tiger. And, in any case, Nithya is back within a few moments. In his mouth is a bird that's been dead long enough to have stiffened up and gone cool. A meal given to him by one of the priests, actually. It's a big lunch for a kitten, a mere mouthful for a tiger, but when he lands on the branch he'd previously occupied he calls muffledly, "Here!" And then he drops it, sending it to the ground a few feet away from Shikaara. Truthfully, it won't help much. But it's a gesture of kindness and it's unlikely that Nithya is even aware of how much food a tiger needs to eat every day.
At the time he was attacked, Shikaara hadn't even heard rumors of something bad happening. Even now, he has no real idea who the enemies are - oh, the faces, those he has burned in his memory and haunting his nightmares. But their range? Their mode of operation? Their allies? He has no real knowledge of such things. As for the adult leopards... no, he's not worried about that. Well, that's not strictly true. He's still young enough that the idea of a sharp-tongued mother scolding him for frightening her kitten holds a vague dread... but it's almost pleasant, to worry about something as ordinary as that. He looks up, tongue still extended, as Nithya returns, and watches the bird plummet to the ground. It's not much - but it's food, and it's close enough to fresh... and it smells GOOD. He lunges forward eagerly, and catches himself for just long enough to call, "Thanks!" before he starts to tear into it. Tiger teeth are sharp, and their jaws are strong, but they still eat in much the same way that a hungry clouded leopard does. Just on a bigger scale...
Nithya wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected to happen. Nothing that he's heard about tigers has suggested that they grow pseudopods to eat or anything like that. But Shikaara's reaction is quite a bit like any hungry clouded leopard's, and finding another and strong similarity between them makes the cub grin. His teeth are very white against his sooty face. "You're welcome!" he responds promptly, just as his mother taught him, and settles down to watch Shikaara eat. Nithya will be a bit hungry himself later, since he gave his food away, but he knows he'll be getting another meal soon enough.
The meal isn't much, for a tiger, but at least it takes the edge off. It's easier to think, with something in his belly, and by the end of it, he's eating moderately sedately. There are feathers stuck in his teeth, rather undignified - again, helping to make him seem less of a threat. And he's actually smiling. He'll have to hunt again, later, but maybe he'll have better luck when he's not quite so desperate... and the gesture of kindness helps with a different sort of injury than the physical ones marking his body. Not everyone is so cruel as the tigers that took his sister. This young clouded leopard, for instance. He looks up, with a smile, and repeats himself in place of other words he can't figure out how to say. "Thank you."
Indeed, the cub is starting to look far more at ease now. An older animal might remain distant, even though Shikaara seems harmless, but Nithya is used to depending on and trusting adults that could easy kill him if they wished to; he takes their benevolence at face value and seems willing to do the same with Shikaara's at this point. When the tiger smiles at him his earlier grin returns, and spreads. And then an apparent non sequitur: "It's going to rain." He jerks his head off in the direction of the noisy river. "If the river overflows fish might wash up onto shore. I've seen the--" Wait. How can he phrase that without giving the Lon Gi's existence away? "--Well, I've only seen it happen once," he amends instead, "but it looks like it's /really/ going to rain."
Shikaara 's trust in strange adults has been torn and scarred, perhaps beyond recovery. He'd be suspicious of one, even one that offered gifts - but Nithya is clearly young and inexperienced, still unhurt by experience. Like he was. Like his sister was. It's a sort of reminder of what was taken from him - one that starts to turn his anger at those marauding tigers from hot to cold - but at the same time, he yearns for that innocence again, and that makes him well-inclined towards Nithya, willing to trust him where he wouldn't an adult. The rain? He'd seen the clouds looming, but what of it? He tilts his head curiously, listening to the explanation, and then nods. The pause is odd, but he's too distracted by the prospect of easy food to really notice. "Hah. I might even be able to hunt those..." he says, half-admitting his current disability. "As long as I don't get washed away myself..."
"If you climb a tree," Nithya starts, and then pauses. That's what he does whenever it looks like the river is going to flood, but Shikaara can't climb as high. That won't work! The child shrugs helplessly, but: "There are all sorts of fish in there. You can't really get at them here unless it rains and they come floating out, but I think the current is better farther down." Though it probably won't be for long if it does storm.
Shikaara chuckles softly. "No trees for me. But... yes, I think I can try some fish." Farther down... the lake is that way, and remembering that makes him shudder. He looks up to Nithya, and his smile is gone now. "Stay up in your trees, Nithya. Stay far up there, and tell your friends to stay there, too. It isn't safe. Not for anyone."
Nithya is puzzled, to say the least, when his unlikely companion shudders and his smile disappears. He's a smart boy, but not a genius of deductive reasoning; it doesn't occur to him that the location he's suggested is closer to the area where Shikaara was attacked. At least this time the shift in mood doesn't make him so nervous. His ears perk forward, listening then lower again. He knows that the world isn't ever really safe, with there being so many animals who are larger and meaner than a clouded leopard, but the way Shikaara speaks makes Nithya think that he's talking about something even worse than the usual dangers he's learned about. "I will," he promises, and wants, badly, to ask why, but the words stick in his throat. Maybe, on some level, his brain knows he doesn't want to find out.
Shikaara nods his head, seeming satisfied with that. The world is far from safe, but perhaps this young clouded leopard can go for a bit longer without having to learn that the hard way. Even for tigers, the world isn't safe, and what does that say for the smaller creatures? It's probably better that Nithya doesn't actually ask - if Shikaara answered, that might lead to nightmares. And he's not sure he could answer... those thoughts, those memories, come back in his own nightmares, and he doesn't wish to summon them, waking. Doesn't have the detachment, yet, to really do so without reliving them. "Good," he replies, and then a pause, broken by one of the first raindrops of the approaching storm coming down and plunking squarely onto his nose. He half-smiles, as he gives his muzzle a shake.
Rain is a source of annoyance to most cats, especially in a climate like this; the air is usually so humid, at least here in the trees, that it hardly seems like they need more moisture. And it can certainly be dangerous, especially when lightning is involved. But as the first drops of the storm finally reach them, carried on a breeze that's unusually cool for this time of year, Nithya seems untroubled. He's more worried about Shikaara's warning than he is about getting wet. He glances up through a break in the trees, watching the leaden skies overhead, and fluffs his coat up just before the rain starts to come down in earnest. Within moments it's slicked back against his body, but he still seems not to mind. "Good luck with your fishing," he says sincerely. He doesn't add to be careful, since he thinks that Shikaara, with his injuries, hardly needs a reminder to stay safe, but concern may be evident in his voice.
Shikaara smiles softly, and nods. "Thank you," he says again - for the offer of luck, but for everything else, as well. "Be well," he adds, and that's more hope than request, that perhaps not everything will be destroyed. He turns, padding towards the water at a slow pace to avoid straining his injuries - and perhaps things will be flooding, by the time he gets there, and he can spend the rainstorm chest-deep in the water catching fish, and end up with a fully belly. And perhaps, the grown cats of Nithya's tribe will also want to hunt overflowed fish - and they're less likely to appreciate a wandering tiger. But he knows nothing of such things, and is simply hopeful as he pads off.
Nithya (Juve. Black Clouded Leopard)
Shikaara (Adol. Tiger)
------
Raging River
The river rages here over boulders in frothy rapids flowing from the west and rushing toward east. Its depth and powerful current make it dangerous for all but the largest beasts -- elephant, rhinoceros, water buffalo and guar -- even during the dry season. Regular monsoons cause it to swell regularly, leaving an exposed, vast bed of rock, boulder and sandbars during the dry season. The steep banks outside of this manage to contain most monsoons, held fast by tangly roots of teak, mango, tea, jambul and other trees and well-rooted brush. This east-west stretch of the river marks the northern edge of a rainforest which continues thickly south of here; not far from the river's edge into this forest lurks a massive Banyan tree, not tall but sprawling out over tens of meters. To the north, the trees are thinner and -- during an offshore breeze -- the stank of peat would indicate a marsh to the north. Downstream to the west, the river can be seen taking a bend southward (toward the southwest of here). A stream to the west and a near sub-horizon to the northwest would indicate a possible lake to the northwest.
------
Though the forest is never exactly a dry place, the air has been more humid lately and it's carried the scent of heavier, encroaching rains. The monsoon is coming. Having retreated into the upper canopy of a soaring teak tree, Nithya sits alone on one of its branches and peers out through a break in the leaves. The late afternoon sky is pregnant with heavy, slate-grey clouds, and, far in the distance, the boy can see a flash of lightning. The storm might burn itself out before it gets here, but he doubts it. He can feel its strong presence in his bones, an almost physical pressure.
Hunting for himself was hardly familiar enough to be easy, for Shikaara - and that was when he was perfectly healthy. Now, with his body aching with half-healed wounds, he's been trying without success for several hours already. And the weather is getting worse - if he doesn't catch something soon, he's going to be out of luck, hungry and drenched. He finds another trail, of a young chital doe - but he gives himself away too soon, and the creature flees before he's managed to get into position. He gives chase, crashing through the brush, but the deer is too quick for him. He's soon panting, as the fleet creature escapes him, and one of the injuries on his flank has re-opened, starting to drip blood down through his fur as he lumbers to a stop beneath a teak tree. He snarls. "Misbegotten son of a flea-bitten..." and then he trails off into a wordless growl, his tail twitching as he stands there, panting.
His gaze takes an inevitable turn south, where he can occasionally catch a glimpse of the ocean on clearer days, but visibility isn't with him. All that's on the coastal horizon are more clouds, perhaps even thicker there since the marine layer has hung around all day. Nithya watches it with a wistful sort of longing anyway, right up until his ears twitch in response to some commotion on the ground far below him. Startled, he peers around the edge of his branch in time to see an enormous orange and black animal slide to a halt at the base of the tree. What /is/ that? It's wounded and panting and clearly angry. Wary, but curious, he slips down to a lower limb to watch Shikaara more closely. And then to a lower one, though still quite out of the tiger's reach, his claws dislodging a small amount of bark as he moves.
Shikaara takes in a deep breath, and then another, until his breathing is almost steady. He'll catch something, and then he'll - wait. Is there someone else here? There's a bit of bark, falling through the air, and his ears twitch, going back against his head as he looks up. Scratches from claws mark across the muzzle that's wrinkled up to scent the air, his body tightening again, ready to - attack? Flee? Anger and fear war over his posture as he looks - but black is hard to spot, as he scans amidst the tree-branches. He's silent, for a moment - but it's too late for stealth, now, after the noise of his approach, and so he calls, "Who's there?"
From this vantage point, even though Nithya's view is mostly of Shikaara's back and his raised, injured muzzle, he can quite tell he's been outed. And the unknown feline looks angrier now, for all that he also seems uncertain--to a creature as small as he is, the idea that a tiger would have something to be frightened of is unthinkable. Almost as much as the idea that Mridula would ever be scared of anything, say. So anger it is, he decides, and when Shikaara calls out he certainly isn't going to answer! Nithya even shrinks back along the limb, edging farther into the shadows, but a stray bit of light glints off his eyes as he does so.
Shikaara looks around, but he's turned the wrong direction at first, and by the time he turns, the feline has slipped back further to the tree, out of sight. He snarls again, his tail flicking in growing concern. Someone, something is here... and he doesn't know who, he doesn't know what. And that makes him worried. He's being stalked. Again. And he doesn't know who - doesn't know it's just a much smaller cat. The last time he was hunted... he barely escaped alive. He starts to back away, body lowered down towards the ground as he tries to back off from... whatever this is.
That snarl, to Nithya as loud as rolling thunder, only makes the boy more nervous. He flattens himself against the bark, his ears slicking back, and watches with wide, unsure eyes as Shikaara backs away. Is he leaving? He's sinking into a crouch, almost to his stomach. Oh, dear. Maybe he's going to charge the tree and try to come up here! Nithya had thought he was up high enough to be safe, but looking down at the tiger and realizing that he has no idea how high Shikaara would be able to jump makes him reconsider. And so, seconds later, he explodes out of hiding and races up along the teak's trunk to another branch. There he stands, regarding the tiger below with no small amount of apprehension. "You're not getting up here!" he calls just in case Shikaara thought otherwise, as if saying it will make it true. (And it is true, but he doesn't know that for certain.) And to think that if he'd just kept his mouth shut and stayed put Shikaara probably would have left without incident, saving them both from further confrontation.
Shikaara stops in his retreat, eyes flitting to the blur of black-furred motion, to the sound of a young voice. He relaxes, just a little. That's not the sound of tigers preparing to attack him. Maybe it's a trap, but... it seems unlikely. He peers up into the branches, the anger and fear starting to fade. "No... I'm not," he calls back, staring in. He thinks he can make out the shape now, dark amidst the branches. "Who are you?" he asks again, and then, a few moments later, adds, "I'm Shikaara." Maybe a name will make the little... feline, he thinks?... a bit more comfortable and ready to respond to him.
"You're not," Nithya agrees at once. He tries to keep his voice firm, brave and stern like he imagines Mridula's or his parents' would be, but what he mostly sounds like is relieved. His eyes catch the light again as he shifts uncomfortably, trying to decide the best way to approach this now that Shikaara, at least, has relaxed. He thinks that Mayur would speak to the tiger. Ila would speak. Mridula would speak. With the probable reaction of his caretakers weighted against his fright, he makes his decision: he'll act as they would. "I'm Nithya," he starts, "son of Mayur and Ila." And then, as the names of his parents' parents and every ancestor before that all rise to his mind with the ease of long bloodline-drills, he cuts himself off. "You're a tiger, aren't you?" he adds instead, and though he still seems ill at ease there's something sly in this question. He's never seen one before, but he's heard enough descriptions of them in stories to recognize one.
Shikaara catches the glint of light, and nods slightly to himself as he gets a better sense of the creature up in the tree. Small, yes, and feline - the voice's tone helps with that bit, too. And probably not a threat... he hopes. The names spoken mean nothing to him, but he nods again. He can't help but smile at the question, and the way it's delivered. Now that he's relaxing, he seems to be friendly enough. "I am. My mother's name is Vaktaa..." it's only fair, to give his parentage in response - though he could hardly manage the huge list. The thought of family, though, makes a soft growl rise in his throat unbidden, not quite given voice as he drops his gaze, staring down at the ground. Enough. This is not the place for his anger. This child doesn't deserve it. Still, it's a few long moments before he manages to calm himself enough to be willing to look up again.
Whether he actively intended to or not, the fact that Shikaara has given a name from his own family puts Nithya on more comfortable, familiar ground. This is normal to him, the exchanging of lineages, and it makes Shikaara seem more normal by association. Tigers have parents; there's more to them than huge fangs and terrifying noises. Reassured, Nithya opens his mouth. He doesn't get out more than a squeak before Shikaara's entire mood changes again, and though it's rather useless to try and conceal himself now he lowers himself down again. "Sorry," is all he can think of to say, his resolve wavering. "It's just, um--I was up here and I heard you and I didn't know what was going on so I came down to see!" The words all run together, barely a pause between them for breath or punctuation, explaining himself as hastily and anxiously as he would if he was in trouble with an adult of his own kind. Of course, even an adult clouded leopard couldn't eat him in one bite.
Even the apology is a frustrating reminder to Shikaara. He can't even hunt well enough, let alone fight... even a child can see him. No wonder he couldn't save his sister - oh, tigers have parents, yes, and entire families... and aching wounds where family has been torn away. As well as more physical injuries - his flank is still aching as the drip of blood leaves a brown mat in the fur. But he manages to hold on to his temper, this time, though his tail keeps up a restless twitch. He's angry, yes, but not at Nithya. And he didn't mean to frighten the smaller cat, he just... couldn't help it. His ears lay flat, abashed. "No. I'm the one who should be sorry..." he replies back. "You didn't... you're not who I'm angry with."
An older leopard, one more experienced with tigers and their arboreal limits, would be more difficult to intimidate. Even if Shikaara had wanted to hurt him, Nithya would really have nothing to fear as long as he keeps to the upper branches. But there's a difference between knowing something intellectually and really understanding it, and it's clear that the boy is at least half-skeptical. The other half of him, the part of his brain that's not so primitive, that can override thousands of years' worth of ingrained survival instincts, is intrigued. Nithya hesitates, then slides halfway off of his branch, dangling in midair by his hindfeet and long balancing tail. It's a compromise, of sorts--a way to get a better look at Shikaara without actually coming too much closer. He doesn't say anything right away, only inspects the older cat with a frowning, pitted brow (although it might be hard to see on his dark face). His nostrils flare: he can smell the blood from here. Once more he hazards a guess instead of asking for an explanation. "Are you angry at who did that to you?" he ventures, his claws digging into the trunk to anchor him in his odd, squirrellike position.
Shikaara wouldn't attack the younger leopard even if he could, not that Nithya knows that. But a bit of caution is certainly useful for... well, staying alive. He looks up at the dangling feline, getting a better look for himself, as well. Odd, that dark fur on that dextrous frame - not something he'd seen before. But definitely small, and young... oh, now he feels like a bully, snarling at a little kitten like that. His tail starts to slow, calming in its twitching as the two felines regard each other. "Yes," he simply replies. That's part of it, at least; though there's a stronger reason for his anger. If it was simply his own injuries... he was bound to get into a fight, sooner or later as he sought for territory. But to be attacked, out of the blue, by those who sought not merely to drive him away, but to kill him - who killed his sister... oh, there's a lot of pain and anger, there. His mouth opens again, then closes. He has not the words to speak of it, though tangled emotion is clear on his features.
The cub nods, at that, his golden eyes solemn but perhaps a bit less apprehensive now. He's never been attacked by anyone; he's never even scuffled with other children for fun. Falling out of trees and getting scratched by the occasional thorny or too-sharp branch are the only sorts of physical injuries that Nithya has ever experienced in his short lifetime. But if somebody /did/ attack him, he'd be angry--and it's a boon to know that Shikaara's anger is directed at someone else. "Oh," he murmurs, and to his credit he doesn't ask why they injured Shikaara; that would be a difficult and painful question to answer, since there was really no logic behind the assault. "I'll bet it's hard to get around." Also to his credit, he doesn't launch into an explanation of how he'd bruised his ribs once when he misjudged a jump and could barely walk for a week afterward; he simply comments.
Shikaara barely hears Nithya's reply, at first. Oh, Abhishapta... his lips form the name, without quite giving it voice. His expression is more pain than anger, now, and after a few moments, he gives his head a little shake to clear it, looking back up to the dark feline. "It... it's better, now, than it was." And that's quite a statement, given that he's still limping and bleeding. The anger has left pain visible in its wake, though there's still a wariness that's not surprising, given his current state.
The frown is back on Nithya's shadowed brow, but there is, perhaps, a measure of concern in it now. He may not know how to differentiate a young tiger from an older one, having never seen an older one to make a proper comparison against, but pain is a universal expression and he can see the stress on Shikaara's face even from here. Though he's still cautious, he's also not without heart. His elders might be inclined to leave an injured tiger to his own business, but Nithya was raised with parents who were empathetic towards him and he sees no reason why he shouldn't extend that courtesy to non-leopards. He slips down along the trunk, coming to rest on a slightly lower branch, and tips his head. "Can you hunt?" he adds suddenly. Perceptive boy, now that he's calmed down.
Shikaara lets out a sigh, at the question. Oh, he's been trying to hunt. But it's hard to stalk properly, and he doesn't have the stamina for the chase, and... "Sort of..." he says. He's a bit too proud to want to admit that the proper answer should be 'No' - that the last time he ate, it was by frightening away carrion-birds from a day-old kill, and tugging off those bits of flesh that weren't so far gone as to make even his growling stomach revolt. He's getting better, but he's still far from healed, and without a great deal of luck, or aid, the slayer of his sister may manage him as well, during this time.
Though Shikaara may not want to admit outright that he's having difficulties, Nithya is a young boy and, while he's mostly an obedient one, he knows a half-truth when he hears one. 'Sort of' is what he says when his mentors ask him if he's done an exercise that's completely slipped his mind. If Shikaara is watching him closely he might see the little feline's ears perk in comprehension. "Well," he starts, and then pauses. His long tail taps against the branch he's poised on. "Wait here?" he adds a moment later, and then springs off into the upper canopy again, vanishing from sight.
Shikaara is unpracticed at deception, but he still has enough pride not to want to admit some things right out. But he doesn't entirely mind that the young clouded leopard seems to have figured it out anyhow - there's a difference between being reluctant to admit weakness, and being foolhardy. He doesn't have a chance to reply, before the smaller feline darts off through the branches - but he stares at where he was, and hesitates a moment before shaking his head to empty space. It might be a trap, but... it probably isn't. And even if it is, his tracks would be clear enough. So... hope, instead of fear, wins the struggle for his reaction. Though he does back away a little, into a small clump of brush, before he settles down and begins to groom the drying blood from his fur while he waits.
If it is a trap, it's a very strange one. Would the Ran Garjana use a clouded leopard as bait, much less a cub? It seems unlikely. Equally unlikely is the possibility that there are adult leopards waiting to spring; Shikaara may be an injured adolescent, but he's still a tiger. And, in any case, Nithya is back within a few moments. In his mouth is a bird that's been dead long enough to have stiffened up and gone cool. A meal given to him by one of the priests, actually. It's a big lunch for a kitten, a mere mouthful for a tiger, but when he lands on the branch he'd previously occupied he calls muffledly, "Here!" And then he drops it, sending it to the ground a few feet away from Shikaara. Truthfully, it won't help much. But it's a gesture of kindness and it's unlikely that Nithya is even aware of how much food a tiger needs to eat every day.
At the time he was attacked, Shikaara hadn't even heard rumors of something bad happening. Even now, he has no real idea who the enemies are - oh, the faces, those he has burned in his memory and haunting his nightmares. But their range? Their mode of operation? Their allies? He has no real knowledge of such things. As for the adult leopards... no, he's not worried about that. Well, that's not strictly true. He's still young enough that the idea of a sharp-tongued mother scolding him for frightening her kitten holds a vague dread... but it's almost pleasant, to worry about something as ordinary as that. He looks up, tongue still extended, as Nithya returns, and watches the bird plummet to the ground. It's not much - but it's food, and it's close enough to fresh... and it smells GOOD. He lunges forward eagerly, and catches himself for just long enough to call, "Thanks!" before he starts to tear into it. Tiger teeth are sharp, and their jaws are strong, but they still eat in much the same way that a hungry clouded leopard does. Just on a bigger scale...
Nithya wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected to happen. Nothing that he's heard about tigers has suggested that they grow pseudopods to eat or anything like that. But Shikaara's reaction is quite a bit like any hungry clouded leopard's, and finding another and strong similarity between them makes the cub grin. His teeth are very white against his sooty face. "You're welcome!" he responds promptly, just as his mother taught him, and settles down to watch Shikaara eat. Nithya will be a bit hungry himself later, since he gave his food away, but he knows he'll be getting another meal soon enough.
The meal isn't much, for a tiger, but at least it takes the edge off. It's easier to think, with something in his belly, and by the end of it, he's eating moderately sedately. There are feathers stuck in his teeth, rather undignified - again, helping to make him seem less of a threat. And he's actually smiling. He'll have to hunt again, later, but maybe he'll have better luck when he's not quite so desperate... and the gesture of kindness helps with a different sort of injury than the physical ones marking his body. Not everyone is so cruel as the tigers that took his sister. This young clouded leopard, for instance. He looks up, with a smile, and repeats himself in place of other words he can't figure out how to say. "Thank you."
Indeed, the cub is starting to look far more at ease now. An older animal might remain distant, even though Shikaara seems harmless, but Nithya is used to depending on and trusting adults that could easy kill him if they wished to; he takes their benevolence at face value and seems willing to do the same with Shikaara's at this point. When the tiger smiles at him his earlier grin returns, and spreads. And then an apparent non sequitur: "It's going to rain." He jerks his head off in the direction of the noisy river. "If the river overflows fish might wash up onto shore. I've seen the--" Wait. How can he phrase that without giving the Lon Gi's existence away? "--Well, I've only seen it happen once," he amends instead, "but it looks like it's /really/ going to rain."
Shikaara 's trust in strange adults has been torn and scarred, perhaps beyond recovery. He'd be suspicious of one, even one that offered gifts - but Nithya is clearly young and inexperienced, still unhurt by experience. Like he was. Like his sister was. It's a sort of reminder of what was taken from him - one that starts to turn his anger at those marauding tigers from hot to cold - but at the same time, he yearns for that innocence again, and that makes him well-inclined towards Nithya, willing to trust him where he wouldn't an adult. The rain? He'd seen the clouds looming, but what of it? He tilts his head curiously, listening to the explanation, and then nods. The pause is odd, but he's too distracted by the prospect of easy food to really notice. "Hah. I might even be able to hunt those..." he says, half-admitting his current disability. "As long as I don't get washed away myself..."
"If you climb a tree," Nithya starts, and then pauses. That's what he does whenever it looks like the river is going to flood, but Shikaara can't climb as high. That won't work! The child shrugs helplessly, but: "There are all sorts of fish in there. You can't really get at them here unless it rains and they come floating out, but I think the current is better farther down." Though it probably won't be for long if it does storm.
Shikaara chuckles softly. "No trees for me. But... yes, I think I can try some fish." Farther down... the lake is that way, and remembering that makes him shudder. He looks up to Nithya, and his smile is gone now. "Stay up in your trees, Nithya. Stay far up there, and tell your friends to stay there, too. It isn't safe. Not for anyone."
Nithya is puzzled, to say the least, when his unlikely companion shudders and his smile disappears. He's a smart boy, but not a genius of deductive reasoning; it doesn't occur to him that the location he's suggested is closer to the area where Shikaara was attacked. At least this time the shift in mood doesn't make him so nervous. His ears perk forward, listening then lower again. He knows that the world isn't ever really safe, with there being so many animals who are larger and meaner than a clouded leopard, but the way Shikaara speaks makes Nithya think that he's talking about something even worse than the usual dangers he's learned about. "I will," he promises, and wants, badly, to ask why, but the words stick in his throat. Maybe, on some level, his brain knows he doesn't want to find out.
Shikaara nods his head, seeming satisfied with that. The world is far from safe, but perhaps this young clouded leopard can go for a bit longer without having to learn that the hard way. Even for tigers, the world isn't safe, and what does that say for the smaller creatures? It's probably better that Nithya doesn't actually ask - if Shikaara answered, that might lead to nightmares. And he's not sure he could answer... those thoughts, those memories, come back in his own nightmares, and he doesn't wish to summon them, waking. Doesn't have the detachment, yet, to really do so without reliving them. "Good," he replies, and then a pause, broken by one of the first raindrops of the approaching storm coming down and plunking squarely onto his nose. He half-smiles, as he gives his muzzle a shake.
Rain is a source of annoyance to most cats, especially in a climate like this; the air is usually so humid, at least here in the trees, that it hardly seems like they need more moisture. And it can certainly be dangerous, especially when lightning is involved. But as the first drops of the storm finally reach them, carried on a breeze that's unusually cool for this time of year, Nithya seems untroubled. He's more worried about Shikaara's warning than he is about getting wet. He glances up through a break in the trees, watching the leaden skies overhead, and fluffs his coat up just before the rain starts to come down in earnest. Within moments it's slicked back against his body, but he still seems not to mind. "Good luck with your fishing," he says sincerely. He doesn't add to be careful, since he thinks that Shikaara, with his injuries, hardly needs a reminder to stay safe, but concern may be evident in his voice.
Shikaara smiles softly, and nods. "Thank you," he says again - for the offer of luck, but for everything else, as well. "Be well," he adds, and that's more hope than request, that perhaps not everything will be destroyed. He turns, padding towards the water at a slow pace to avoid straining his injuries - and perhaps things will be flooding, by the time he gets there, and he can spend the rainstorm chest-deep in the water catching fish, and end up with a fully belly. And perhaps, the grown cats of Nithya's tribe will also want to hunt overflowed fish - and they're less likely to appreciate a wandering tiger. But he knows nothing of such things, and is simply hopeful as he pads off.