Ah, the deserts of Arabia. By day, sand blows across them. They're hot. Civilization dares not come out here, when they've got a choice.

Caymen's strong. And he can go for days. He has. He knows not where Bryn is...but whether by his will or pure chance's, he WILL have that little witch.

Sometimes bipedal, and sometimes quadrupedal, he stumbles across the desert sands. He's been at it for days...but he could always be at it for a bit longer...

As he travels, the trees and cliffs become more frequent. The shade does too. The shade tempts him. Alas, his power prevails. His hunger does too. Only a certain witch's flesh will sate it...

Or rather, that's what he tells himself. But the problem with such habits is that in the grand scheme of things, that's the only thing they are: habits. Habits take effort to break. And Caymen has no self-control.

Elephant shrews and hedgehogs scurry. As fierce as both are, they're no match for the mystical monkey/cat.

In the heat of the day, an aardwolf comes outside, and defecates. Briefly, and not much, he irrigates the desert. He also adds to the salt in the sand; not that it needs it. The sun hurts his eyes...but the water hurts his bladder even more.

He slows, as he smells something. The hair on his back rises...

Caymen charges towards him. Dumping what he's got left, the aardwolf faces the danger, paws up sand, bares his fangs, and goes on the defensive.

The cats clash. It's a catfight...but they're both male.

All around, some females slither from their dens, and watch the fight. For their man, it gets intense...

It isn't long before it's over...although the aardwolf puts up a good fight. He lies on the ground, eyes still open, jaws open, tongue hanging out. Caymen stands over him, triumphantly. All around, the female aardwolves watch, as the last light leaves their man's eyes.

Caymen bares his fangs, and roars. All around, the female aardwolves slither back into their dens. Tomorrow, they'll all be wearing black...figuratively.

Caymen only takes a few bites out of what he's killed. He eats his neck, thus removing the head from the carcass. He eats the meaty parts of the legs. He eats his heart.

Whoever said that cats don't have hearts CLEARLY has never looked inside an aardwolf's chest...from the POV of Caymen.

Licking his chops, Caymen scurries on. He still hasn't found Bryn. The aardwolf was just a setback. And Caymen knows that Bryn will hide everywhere before she's caught, and judged for the hallucinogenic scourge she is.