WHO: Caralyn and Rico WHEN: Sometime in February in some year. At night. WHERE: Mystic Veil (the town) A shady alley. WHAT: Rescuing a damsel. RATING NONE YA BUSINESS
Cara felt that rush of adrenaline that only came with a dark night and a cold wind as she moved unseen through the streets. She'd spent the better part of the evening finding those who would prey on the weak and teaching them that the predator was not always at the top of the food chain. It was sometime past midnight now but there was no thought of calling it a night. No thought of sleep with the buzz running under her skin. The tigress wondered if maybe those she'd taught lessons to earlier had somehow spread the word because it had been ages since she'd found someone to punish by now. That buzz was still spurring her on, telling her that somewhere there were those she could have fun with. Someone had to need her still.
Pieces of chestnut hair had escaped the high ponytail she'd hastily tied it up in but she ignored the way they tickled her face as the wind blew them around. The tiger in her was prowling, wanting more fight, and she was inclined to agree. Cara just wasn't sure if all the bullies had gone to bed or not. "Maybe it's time to shift and get it out that way," she murmured, as much to herself as her tiger, as hazel eyes scanned the darkness. Her feet didn't make a sound as she moved and her black ensemble ensured she was as unseen as any good hunter. As she moved, a sound from a nearby alley caught her attention. Pausing, gloved hand on her quiver of arrows, Cara listened. She heard shouts, muffled as they were a good distance away but her shifter ears picked it up nonetheless. The sound of flesh hitting flesh followed the cries and shattering glass followed. The wind carried the scent of blood to her and Cara smiled. Bingo.
Without making a sound, she slunk around the corner, the cool metal of one of her knives pricking the skin of her leg from its place hiding in her boots. She kept towards the shadow of the building, feet moving through puddles without so much as a splash. As the scene came into view, Cara raised an eyebrow. Several men stood around another, two holding him by the arms as the others rained blows on him. She couldn't make out any familiar features, just tan skin and a mop of dark hair, but she didn't like the odds here. Quietly, she drew an arrow, fitting it into the bow and taking aim. Without hesitation, she let it fly, the surprised cries as it embedded itself in one about to kick the young man making her smirk. As the men began to look around wildly, she notched another arrow, stepping out into the dim light of the streetlamps.
"Thought I'd even the odds a bit. Hope you don't mind," she announced with a smirk.