5th | Winter
The night was young, sky tinged with pale gold in the west to insinuate that the sun had not yet fully taken its leave. Even the barest sliver of golden light was enough to cause the Zith woman discomfort. It glared under the silvered edge of a cloud, beading against the horizon, and it hurt.
Terror prowled, impatient and with a deep hunger gnawing in her stomach, seeking out something, or anything at all, that she could actually eat. Her mind was focused, narrowed, and there was nothing that could distract her, even the glimmer of shiny things in the hands of people who walked by the street beneath her. They must know that there was something up there, something unwilling to drop down onto street level and therefore limit herself, entrap herself. They did not consider that she would dive down, if necessary, to seize upon the slightest show of food.
But that was a human's limited imagination.
From one rooftop to another, the Zith lit upon each landing surface delicately, lightly testing out every surface she would stand upon before placing her weight upon it fully. There was a level of distrust in these things, as many buildings in this city were ruined enough to crumble under even her weight when she touched them.
Suddenly, half in motion to traverse the distance between one low, sloped rooftop to the other, Terror heard something that caught her attention, even in this moment. It was not the clinking of coins, incessant and piercing, nor a bloodcurdling screech that would raise her fur on end. It was the steady beat of wings, quiet like a whisper, yet still loud.
Her hand retracted from its reach, fingers hooking into the shape of claws as she sat back on her haunches and turned her head upwards, face tilting in order to spot the bird. Her mind churned, taking what she knew of birds and that most migrated, leaving few behind for predators to devour, and attempting to make sense of what lone bird could be here now.
It was black against the navy heavens, an outline against the backdrop of lights in the sky. Restlessly, the Zith shifted, fully turning her body in order to watch the progress of the bird. Her stomach called to it, demanded that it be within.
That alone was enough to urge the Zith into motion, kicking her from the rooftop, which groaned a complaint at her hasty departure. Bird hunting, being different from the hunting of rodents and people, required a level of finesse that a hungry Zith was incapable of, yet it grasped her in the way that simply waiting could not.
The night was young, sky tinged with pale gold in the west to insinuate that the sun had not yet fully taken its leave. Even the barest sliver of golden light was enough to cause the Zith woman discomfort. It glared under the silvered edge of a cloud, beading against the horizon, and it hurt.
Terror prowled, impatient and with a deep hunger gnawing in her stomach, seeking out something, or anything at all, that she could actually eat. Her mind was focused, narrowed, and there was nothing that could distract her, even the glimmer of shiny things in the hands of people who walked by the street beneath her. They must know that there was something up there, something unwilling to drop down onto street level and therefore limit herself, entrap herself. They did not consider that she would dive down, if necessary, to seize upon the slightest show of food.
But that was a human's limited imagination.
From one rooftop to another, the Zith lit upon each landing surface delicately, lightly testing out every surface she would stand upon before placing her weight upon it fully. There was a level of distrust in these things, as many buildings in this city were ruined enough to crumble under even her weight when she touched them.
Suddenly, half in motion to traverse the distance between one low, sloped rooftop to the other, Terror heard something that caught her attention, even in this moment. It was not the clinking of coins, incessant and piercing, nor a bloodcurdling screech that would raise her fur on end. It was the steady beat of wings, quiet like a whisper, yet still loud.
Her hand retracted from its reach, fingers hooking into the shape of claws as she sat back on her haunches and turned her head upwards, face tilting in order to spot the bird. Her mind churned, taking what she knew of birds and that most migrated, leaving few behind for predators to devour, and attempting to make sense of what lone bird could be here now.
It was black against the navy heavens, an outline against the backdrop of lights in the sky. Restlessly, the Zith shifted, fully turning her body in order to watch the progress of the bird. Her stomach called to it, demanded that it be within.
That alone was enough to urge the Zith into motion, kicking her from the rooftop, which groaned a complaint at her hasty departure. Bird hunting, being different from the hunting of rodents and people, required a level of finesse that a hungry Zith was incapable of, yet it grasped her in the way that simply waiting could not.