Kalama's stomping grounds had become Orion and Canis, so naturally the tunnels belonged to her as well. Kalama had mentally prepared herself for the off-putting tunnel, and began her trip from Orion to Canis once more. Kalama shook her patchy down out, tufts flying.

The sooner she began, the sooner it'd be over. She took a few steps into the tunnel, when she belatedly realized the normally bleak tunnel had changed. It seemed... brighter somehow. She looked up.

It was definitely a change for the worse. It looks a mess, she thought.

There were paintings scattered about the walls, though none of them were what she'd call pleasant. There was also a good amount of seemingly random patterns thrown about. For balance, perhaps. Kalama, the art connoisseur, narrowed her eyes at the paintings. She pittered closer to one, head tilted in confusion.

They were.. odd at best, and disturbing at worst. Who would spend so much energy doing this? Was it really worth it? She could do better, probably, even if she'd never raised a... whatever this'd been done with before. And probably never could. She puffed out a squeaky breath in contempt.

"What vomited over the cave walls?" She said to no one in particular, unaware of the artist's presence.

Speech. Thought

Kalama realizes too late that something is coming at her. She tries to back up, a startled peep escaping, but her feet don't move quick enough. And the thing swoops over her, it's claw aimed at her. She closes her eyes, ready for the pain. It never comes. She blinks, confused, until she realizes that she's glowing red.

She turns her head, staring at the bright red streak that travels down her back for a moment. And then all Kalama sees is red. She splutters, caught between shock, anger, and bewilderment. She settles on rage.

"Ge-get down here!" She shouts angrily, her voice rising in octaves with each word, finally settling on an indignant squeak. It's extremely unintimidating, but she's too angry to care. She chases after the thing, with shouts of "I'll kill you! Fight me!"

She spots a good target. The thing is flying low enough that its tail is within nip distance. She leaps for it, attempting to give the flying crocodile-thing a good nip. She's not fast enough, it seems, and the only thing her beak touches is the dirt. It's an understatement to say that Kalama is unhappy with the turn of events.

Speech. Thought

Kalama quickly decided she hated this flying crocodile. Most things that could fly seemed to piss her off.She coughed dirt from her beak, glaring at the crocodile.


"It's vomit." She retorts with a bark, too angry to come up with a decent come-back. She takes a step towards Imp, and is immediately buffeted by his wing beats.

The gusts of air whipped up her feathers and down, until it was stuck together in clumps of dirt, paint, and loose down. In short, Kalama looked an absolute mess. And the crocodile looked perfectly fine. It still had that dumb sardonic smile on it's stupid dumb face. It was taunting her, definitely. It's just more fuel to the fire, and Kalama's anger soars.
"I'll make you regret this."

Kalama growls, and it sounds odd with her high voice.
"Wipe that grin off your stupid face."

She charges face first at Imp, too angry to think out a proper strategy.

Speech. Thought

Kalama finds some satisfaction in the way Imp flinched from her attack, eye's shut as she batters his snout with her powerful wings and claws, and he shakes. Probably from fear. Her thought process freezes as she sees Imp's jaws shoot forward. She notices too late for her to respond properly. She tries to back up, but her reflexes seem to be shot today. And then, almost as if it's effortless for Imp, she's in the larger beast's jaws. Kalama can barely move, pinned within Imp's jaws. And she hates it.

She lets out a high screeching peep, caught between panic and anger. She begins flailing desperately, clawing and flapping at whatever she can reach from within Imp's jaws. In the back of her mind, as she panics, she feels almost instinctively that her mentor would be disappointed with her lack of any strategy whatsoever. She managed to get pinned almost immediately.

"Let go, fuzzy wart!" She says, trying and failing to sound intimidating.

Speech. Thought

Kalama is relieved when the pressure on her from Imp's teeth is gone, but no sooner than she draws a breath, it is replaced with a forelimb-one of Imp's wing fingers-she comes to realize. The rock against her back is cold enough to feel through her down, and she hates it. Kalama peeps angrily, but doesnt protest more than that.

The flailing she'd done earlier wore her out. She takes a rare moment to think, parse the situation out, and figure out what would cause Imp the most pain. She settles on pulling out some of it's mane hair. Giving it a bald patch. The thought gives her devious satisfaction.

Imp says something, but it takes Kalama a moment to parse Imp's words, a mixture of her budding tiredness and just plain livid at Imp, herself, and the entire situation, really.

"I know that!" Kalama says. She feels embarrasment once more, her least favorite emotion. She didn't really know that, but at this point she'd rather die than admit to the other gemound, the one she'd met minutes ago, that she didn't.

She levels a glare on Imp's fur collar for a moment, before turning her attention back to the wing. She cant see her claws with the leathery membrane or the finger squishing her into the cave floor, but begins to thrash her legs. Hopefully she'd do something. The second she got free, she would snatch a tuft of fur. Her token of victory.

Speech. Thought