Raxta lounged in the net she was currently trapped in, which swung slowly from the canopy above. Or rather, it looked like she was lounging, but in truth, she'd worn herself out from her frantic struggles and now lacked the energy to do much more than just swing there and...
Accept her fate, she supposed.
She had tried to escape, but when the net had swept her off her feet and up into the trees, she had dropped her knife. Though she had claws and teeth, the fibers of the net were too tough to bite through, too thick for her claws to cut. She'd tried clawing at them, she'd tried biting, she'd tried screaming in frustration and thrashing for all she was worth, but it was no use, and it was made all the worse by the sight of her dagger laying on the ground below, hopelessly out of reach.
Like it was taunting her with freedom she couldn't attain.
Eventually, she wore herself out, which she knew was probably good. The humidity was getting to her, sweat slicking her skin, and struggling would only make her lose more water. Dehydration was her number one danger right now--second only to the obvious question of who laid the trap?
And what would they do when they found her in it?
With a sigh, Raxta shifted in the netting and tried to get comfortable, but it was scratchy and bit into her skin in the worst of ways. Her tail slipped through the netting and twitched anxiously as she waited, arms crossed over her chest as she stared up into the trees, a low growl in her throat.
At this point, she wasn't worried about being found; she wanted the culprit to show up. If it was an accident, so be it, but if they were hostile?
Well, they would see what happened when one messed with jaguar-kin.
They would learn then and there that she was the hunter, and that they, truly, were the hunted.