She was relentless in her grisly brilliance as she hovered within the rotting sage, turbid shafts of lactose scintillation emblazoned her sable epidermis, impelling it to take on a depthless and rich appeal of fallacy. Her wolfish sneer soon dispersed to a grim line of vexation as the reverberations of another were easily hears, and no doubt felt. Piteous fool! Was he so ignorant to think he could even possibly approach her with the pace he was obtaining, and not be noticed? Did he not figure her to be instinctively alert? What a fool! Nefertiri had more then enough time to pivot and even with such malicious elegance face-off with her newly found opponent. Great, another equine, and a stupid one at that! Nefertiri was sculpted to lacerate and disembowel gargantuan creatures such as an equine, and do it with such eldritch grandeur. She was the progeny of misery and despair, the bringer of mayhem and genocide, and the paradigm of malefic hatred so keen that her bloodlust was often executed in unpredictable vendettas and onslaughts that reaped the innocent of their very breaths. Her stature was abnormally enlarged in regards to her split genealogy. Aye, Nefartiri was without doubt a crossbreed, a mongrel of sorts as you might say. Splitting her catamount heritage with that of a tiger, she had been specifically conceived for the sole purpose to butcher and mutilate without remorse. And that was precisely what she had done, was doing, and would continue to do. Saliva oozed in torpid filaments from her parched lips as they pinched to exhibit gruesome cuspids. Her cylindrical harks ran parallel with her cervix as she abided for the opportune time to move. He was nearly upon her when she launched, springing from the topography in a brilliant streak of sable carnality. Her maneuvers were swift and virtually elusive as she hurled herself at the bastard’s throat, something vulnerable and an easy target, for she had caught the mistake as soon as he came barreling towards her: he forgot to protect the jugular, which in any-other case would have been ok, but he was engaging in a battle with a hellcat, a creature born with the ability to shred the flesh of nearly any creature, a horse being one. If she had succeeded in her precise attack, her time would be well managed and spent as she would instantly extract her grapnels which would perforate the equine’s neck, not only damaging and breaking the flesh, but possibly penetrating the muscle. While she would gradually be obtaining a substantial grip, her jaws would widen as her incisive cuspids would masticate into the fleshy throat, with the extreme possibility of lacerating the jugular and sending the wretched fool to his gradual demise. (Just saying that if she is successful, he doesn’t have to die, but can easily find a healer or something). Nefertiri was unmerciful in her brutal strikes as her capitulum was savagely jerked from side to side, with every intention of basically ripping his through out so she could move on to something different. Also, if successful, Nefertiri would be hard to remove, for her position was nigh impossible to access unless the stag were to collapse and shove her into the sand, for to a spectator, it would look as if she were “hugging” his neck, dangling upside down.