☾༺Matilda༻☽

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The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the savanna as Matilda padded silently towards Severus Snape, her chestnut fur blending seamlessly with the darkening earth. Apollyon, his presence a palpable chill in the air, stalked silently at her heels. Bast's claws gleamed on her paws, and the intricately carved winged sandals whispered against the dry grass. The Mark of the Elysium, a symbol of power from a realm beyond the savanna, hung heavy on her chest.

Snape, observing from the shade of a rocky outcrop, didn't flinch. He knew Matilda's approach; it was as predictable as the setting sun.

**Snape:** (Voice low, controlled) "Report."

Matilda stopped a few paces away, her vile eyes narrowed, her expression unreadable.

**Matilda:** (Voice a low growl, devoid of warmth) "The rival pride is preparing a coordinated attack. They've secured a strategic advantage near the watering hole."

Snape nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering.

**Snape:** "Their numbers?"

**Matilda:** (Without hesitation) "Twice ours. But their strategy is predictable. We can exploit their weakness."

**Snape:** "And Apollyon's assessment?"

Matilda gestured towards her silent companion.

**Matilda:** "He agrees. A swift, decisive strike at their flanks will cripple their advance."

Snape considered this, his mind already calculating the risks and rewards. The exchange was brief, devoid of pleasantries, a stark reflection of their chilling partnership. Their alliance was based on mutual benefit, a calculated arrangement between two ruthless individuals who understood the harsh realities of their world. Matilda’s chilling efficiency was a valuable asset, her loyalty a terrifying guarantee of success. The silence that followed was heavier than any roar, a testament to the unspoken understanding between them, a shared acceptance of the brutal realities of power and survival.
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