Caern and Central Bawn -- Savannah(#333RAJMs)
The grandeur of Africa radiates out from this central point. Its inhabitants sometimes call this place the center of the world, because for them it is the beginning of all that can be called important. And, indeed, Gaia's pulse is incredibly strong here. Her song is in the land, the air, the very grass that dances across the wind swept savannah. Here, in the center of the wide bawn, is a place of great magic. Trails from all directions lead to a circle of trees in a low-lying plain. Each tree bears a mark. Tribes are represented, the caern is represented, the great long-toothed cat is represented, and Gaia herself is represented. So are the Umbra, Seline, and a variety of other ideas and incarnas. The great ring has no less than thirty one trees, though some swear that number sometimes changes when no one's paying attention.
The highlands in the south overlook the forests to the north, while the animal herds in the vast open plains to the west can smell on the wind the water of the Kasai river to the east.
Contents:
Mabo
Obvious exits:
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Seemingly effortless care put into being graceful envelopes the feline Swara as he trots upon the Simba bawn. Ever on the lookout for an opportunistic hunt or other curiosity, Fireborn peers out over the tops of the waving grass with eager golden eyes. A low lying tree surrounded by some brush attracts his favor and he paces towards it, perhaps to climb up on, perhaps to recline against the roots and lick at his dusty fur.

The low tree, limbs slung out wide, is indeed a good place to climb. In fact, a leopard has done just that, and as Fireborn pads nearer, his lounging form might be seen high up, one forepaw hanging lazily, his tail drooped like a vine. It occasionally twitches, as if involuntarily, and this is the only betrayal of the big cat's camouflage.

Fireborn's eyes are trained to see movement first, as any predator whose sight is the first sense to hunting. He glances upwards into the branches, and watches the tailtip with an almost cub-like debate of whether to try and leap up to yank it. Eventually though, heat and dust win out as he settles down with a faint *foomph* of grass and dirt beneath him to start licking fur in the right direction. Periodically he looks up, thinking whether or not the climbing cat would regard his deliberate intrusion as threatening.

Leaf-Walker is sleepling apparently, and makes no indication that he's aware of Fireborn. The tail sways slightly as a clean-bone-dry draft of wind sweeps through the tree, followed by a moment of intense twitching, but aside from that, there's nothing to indicate the leopard's even alive.

Fireborn sniffs the winds a bit and returns to cleaning off his evenly spotted fur, amused that the leopard has such sound sleep habits. Why, he must think he's secure up in the tree. The cheetah's own tail curls around his slim legs to receive a vicious preening.

Leaf-Walker /must/ feel secure up there, no more than twelve or fifteen feet from the tree's roots, as he still hasn't made so much as a whimper, still hasn't moved beyond his random tail. The rest of the savannah might as well not exist.

Such is the way of cats and their attitudes. The tail's bath is dutifully finished, and Fireborn rises to turn his attentions again onto the savannah. His stomach empty since his last hunt about half a day ago, the cheetah's mind switches to looking for a tasty meal. One thing's good about hunting along the bawn lands - not many hyenas to worry about. Lions...though.

Lions are something Leaf-Walker sometimes worries about, too, which is why he was in the tree. But when the cheetah looks next, he's disappeared from his spot as if carried away on the wind... and then there he is, stepping out from behind the tree's tangled fist of roots to watch Fireborn. Moving a dozen paces without being heard would seem impossible, but there he is, patiently eyeing the sleeker cat.

From afar, Leaf-Walker uses Silent Stalking for effect. :)

Fireborn's muzzle sniffs at the air again, feeling for the wind and moving accordingly. His pace quickens a bit, aiming for the borders of a nearby watering hole just off a ways. In the dry season, there should be game. The cheetah's mind is far from the leopard now and thus he remains somewhat oblivious and intent on fast food.

Leaf-Walker coughs, a low, rough sounds, like a heavy tree limb being knocked against a rock and then dragged through dry grass; it's obviously meant to get the cheetah's attention. The leopard has padded a few yards along behind Fireborn, stopping now to casually groom a forepaw. Fireborn doesn't quite screech to a halt, but the cough does get his attention. Quick eyes spot the other spotted cat and he turns halfway. Ears pricking forward, the cheetah's inquiring throaty rumble sounds. Yeeees?

Leaf-Walker keeps on grooming, sandpaper tongue rasping against the fur and claws. He's very cool, aloof, but he lets the cheetah know that he would ask some questions - if it didn't take time from his hunting.

Fireborn takes another second or so to make up his mind. Food, or paying attention to a treeclimber. Then again, questions in a cat's curiosity should be fulfilled. The Swara settles down onto his haunches, half-turned between the watering hole and the treeclimber so he could easily watch both with a couple degrees turn of his head. What questions would you ask of me?

Leaf-Walker snorts dryly, then turns his attention to his other forepaw, his heavy tongue drawing around the suddenly unsheathed claws and between the toes. Perhaps they are not quite simple questions, but ones a runner who walks far clouds might know. Do yo walk the clouds that darken the baboons' village? There's a formality to the way he phrases the question that suggests he is riddling.

Fireborn's ears fall back to a splay on either side. Riddles again...expected of a climber. The fire burns wherever it may find itself, including the middle of monkeys, he answers. Why? His own mentality isn't quite so formal. At least, not with a leopard.

Ah. A typical fire, then - doing what it will, Leaf-Walker indicates, a measure of respect in his posture. One of the shadows of the forest has complained that the baboons are bringing their own kind of fire into the trees, lighting up places better left dark. What has the fire found of these baboons' plans for the forest shadows?

Fireborn takes a moment to scratch away a meddlesome itch. Rude things, those scratching urges. The ones that walk among leaves should know, that the most of the monkeys feel a need to bring light to dark because they want to see its secrets, mark the land and claim its bounty. Fireborn snorts at that, clearly disliking the notion of monkeys running the place. But a few, are not. One, searched for father's blood amongst the leaves. I know not whether she found what she wished to see. He licks down a stray patch of fur. Apes are apes. They bring their stink worse than dungbeetles.

Leaf-Walker wrinkles his nose, as if smelling their stench even here. One leopard thinks the baboons too stupid to find their own toes on the ground, but another leopard thinks their light will burn down these plains. The shadows beseeched this leopard to see if the baboon plans were known - the fire seems closer to them than the leopard. Perhaps the fire might send a signal of smoke so that the leopard and his shadows might know when the baboons come again.

Fireborn gives the leopard a short affirmative bark. It is the fire's duty to spread and run course, alerting the animals. Then, the cheetah swivels his ears forward again. You know of the dogs who change as we? There are more, who came with the palemonkeys. They too wish to come fight the Serpent and Spider's madness.

Leaf-Walker has heard of them, but only as dreams. Visions in the heat, not solid and real as earth. The dog-changers are not many, are they?

Fireborn has seen them, and knows of three that came with the palemonkeys, and the leader of them says there are more. The jackals should know more about their own. The Swara sniffs. They wish peace with the cats, but the roars of the lions would be enough to change some of their minds. So sees the fire.

If the dogs are baboons, there will be little peace, this leopard thinks. Leaf-Walker shifts his position, moving to grooming a back paw, then the tip of his tail. The fire seems to see far across the plains. This leopard will trust its vision, when it carries news of the baboons again. And with that, the Bagheera turns, padding back toward the tree, which he scales in just a few claw-clinging bounds. He claims his previous spot just as nonchalantly as before.

Fireborn purrs with some mild pleasure and amusement at the compliment, and rises back up to his paws as the leopard bounds back into the tree. The smoke will not be far from coming, when there is a fire around. You may be the first to see the smoke, as those with the highest eyes are often sharp. Fires do not burn without fuel though. And so...Good Hunting, Leaf-Walker. A rough chirp sounds in a departing note, and the cheetah disappears into the grasslands.