OPEN Those aren't meant to bend

[Ares]

Her steps were methodical, each one meticulously planned as her legs moved. Like a well-oiled machine, a thing meant to kill and hunt. And yet, here she was, striding down the cobble streets of Fort Crom. Most of the time she didn't even leave fur-mom's house. But the Utahraptor needed to stretch her legs.

She did her best to ignore the occasional peasant and commonfolk that would veer sharply out of her way or tense up as she walked past. Her feathers would occasionally rise as a peasant stared at her, but that was short-lived. Ares could handle the adults that walked by, but she was more hesitant of the children. She was, after all, little at one point.

Finding a quiet spot on the street, nestled in an alleyway, Ares moved to lay there to escape the subtle drizzle that dampened her feathers. She snorted, reaching a claw up to scratch an itch by her scar. Heterochromatic eyes blinked wildly for a moment as she settled her head on the stony floor. Before long, her eyes had drifted shut.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but as she opened her eyes, she could see brief patches of sunlight on the ground. And about five young animals trying to pester her. They looked like felines -- not that she'd care what animals they were since they were oo-ing and awe-ing at her like she was some strange attraction. They scrabbled back as she barked angrily, but inched back when they realized she hadn't stood up.

I'VE WATCHED THE WEIGHT OF YOUR WORLD COME DOWN.