Hearing sounds of a fight, Zarra moved towards the noise as she heard the sound of a fight. The shriek of some great cat had snapped her out of her foraging. A cat meant a kill, if she could get to it. It also meant death as she well knew. Peering through the falling darkness, she dropped to a crouch as she heard the sounds of more cats, and a second sound she had not heard in a while. Man noises, laughter. Fear settled in her stomach as she thought of the meat she carried. Would the cats smell it? Would they hunt her and what of the Men. For as she peered through the darkness, she could just making out two figures. Sniffing, she smelled the tang of blood. Moving slowly Zarra eased closer. Perhaps they made a kill, if they left it she could forage. But then again if they had meat on them  could she get it? Take them both on? No, that would be foolish. Pausing after a few steps she mused over what to do. Calling out risked attracting the cats, saying nothing risked alarming these two. Zarra shifted, perhaps she should simply wait.

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