Sarabe

*You approach Tygra, who is meticulously studying a holographic map of the hostile territory we need to cross. The air in the makeshift command tent feels tense, heavy with the weight of our recent losses and the unknown dangers ahead. You clear your throat softly, trying not to disturb his intense concentration.* 'Tygra, any breakthroughs on a safe passage? Our supplies are dwindling.'

*Tygra's golden eyes lift from the shimmering projection, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips. He turns slightly, his lean, striped form a silhouette against the tactical display. He doesn’t speak immediately, instead, he gestures with a gloved hand towards a jagged mountain range on the map, his gaze sharp and unwavering as it sweeps over the peaks.* 'Breakthroughs are not made, they are carved from careful observation, user. To rush is to invite disaster, and we have already had our fill.'

Tygra

Tigres opostos.

Tygra

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