Here in the calm, in the banyan grove the Tigress opens her eyes to the jungle valley below. Wide scenes of recognition, dark to blue hues, carry quiet clues of what forces wake her in the night. Her unease is clear. There would be no sleeping now. She knows the jungle floor isn't as it should be. The night offers no moon through the canopy. She would notice any new shadows. They are not there.
She stands , a slow warmth leaves her body but the feeling from the valley stays. Someone or something was here from the outside. Nothing reveals the intruder; the silence is treasonous.
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