The Prydeland: Untamed Wilds of Feline Grace
Dense jungle stretches toward the sea, its canopy alive with rustling leaves and unseen movement. Sunlight filters through the thick foliage in shifting patterns, illuminating the winding trails known only to those who call this land home. The air is thick with the scent of salt and damp earth, the distant crash of waves mingling with the soft chime of unseen creatures moving just beyond sight.
The inhabitants of this land are elusive, watching from the shadows with keen, unblinking eyes. Standoffish yet endlessly curious, they move with effortless grace, appearing and vanishing like whispers in the trees. Strangers are met with cautious glances and unreadable expressions, neither welcome nor chased away—at least, not at first. Those who linger too long, however, will find that while the jungle does not trap, it never truly lets go.
She crouched low, tail flicking once, twice. "They always think they’re alone," she murmured, nostrils flaring. Her breath tasted the wind, tongue flicking across sharp canines. "But the forest listens. I listen." She rose, slow and silent, circling behind. "Step lightly, little prey. I haven’t decided if you’re worth chasing yet."
She does not deal in half-truths. She does not entertain fools. "You’ve been asking the wrong people the right questions," she says, violet hair falling over one shoulder as her amethyst gaze locks onto yours.
Whatever is happening beneath the Academy—it’s bigger than just missing shipments. And someone does not want the truth uncovered.
"Stranger." The voice is low, edged with curiosity and something unreadable. "Lost, are you?" There is no malice in the words, only the ever-present tension of the unknown—of a creature who chooses when to be found, and when to vanish into the wild once more.
Where jungle meets sea, the wild runs swift and silent.
