It'd been two months since those stupid portals had opened up and those even stupider wraiths had picked her up and thrown her into a rock, and only a little over a month since they'd met dear Uncle Joxer. A month since, after offending him and his poor sensitive nose (maybe he was touchy because someone had already stolen his eye), he'd brought them... here. Stuck with a healer, then a babysitter, which even Magnolia knew was for the better if he kept them under watch. She sure as fuck wasn't going to stick around willingly forever! As it was... well, her leg hurt. It hurt bad. Even still, it pained her, it was weak. Running wasn't an option, and if two of them hadn't been able to do much against their monstrous Uncle, they had less chance with several sets of eyes upon them.

Rude. Rude, rude, rude.

But Magnolia could be patient. She could suck up their resources, let her leg heal, watch and learn from these savages worthy of her kin. She could wait. She would deliver herself and Laurel back home, in time -- this, she was sure. Who would think to come and search for them, if they even were, all the way down here? Sure, it didn't actually seem so far when the peaks of Mistveil were often jagged teeth along the horizon, but Mag knew better.

She would wait. She would bide her time.

When she could, she would grab her sister and make a break for it.

Lounging, miserable in the heat with her dark pelt, and glad now more than ever for her more nocturnal nature, Magnolia had yet to truly rise and begin her day. She was groggy, and irritated with how uncomfortable the desert was compared to her cool mountain home.

And hungry.

The scent of blood caught her attention before the summons, but the sharp notes only made her want to hunker down and stay. So she did. To her credit, she loosed a lazy, single bark in return.
She was doing her captors no favors.

Magnolia thought she'd get the upper paw; her captors didn't want them to starve, did they? She and Laurel weren't useful if they were dead, or Joxer wouldn't have bothered. She didn't expect a voice to lift up, teasing; 'Well, alright. Guess this rabbit's for me, then.' The familiar snap of brittle bone spoke to either a very good bluff or his seriousness.

The Fox girl scowled.

Dragged herself dramatically to her paws despite the lack of audience; there was no falseness to the pained twist of her lips that she hardly even lets Laurel witness, but she schooled her features into something more angry. That was easy, though she didn't care one whit about the rabbit whose blood tainted the breeze.

She limped to the mouth of the den, glowering.

Some tall, tan-kissed sylph of silver. Mag let her muzzle wrinkle.

Nothing better to do than come poke fun at the freaks in the cage, huh, she drawled in a hiss, tail cocking over her hips, eyes narrowing. She kept herself within the shadows of the cave. Need a glimpse before you'll toss a scrap our way?