by Hydrargentium

Up in the trees, Feralia sat, and stewed.

Stupid Biggs. Stupid stakeout. Stupid stupid criminal.

These were the kinds of thoughts that cycled in her head. Feralia was comfortable in the concrete jungle. She was used to the soup of sounds and smells of the city. Sitting in the forest, spying on a lonely cabin in the middle of freakin’ nowhere, put her in a foul mood.

The sounds in the forest were all annoyingly subtle, and the smells were fresh and light. And all of it was new. She hated it. But Biggs seemed to think, “animal powers equals hunt in the forest”, and she didn’t have a choice but to follow orders.

For now, anyway. Maybe someday, she’d bring Biggs out here, and leave him stuffed in the crotch of a tree for a week.

Stupid Biggs. Stupid stakeout. Stupid stupid criminal.

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