Barrow Fields lotus eater

Thuringwethil is taking her last bite when something tickles her nose, one ear flicking backward for any obvious sounds but she doesn’t pull away just yet. Slate eyes rotate toward Blixen to see if she picked up on it, too but makes no motion or mention of her own. Cheka has to be one step ahead of whomever they’re guarding and if Blixen is as ready as she says she is, she hopes to see some sort of reaction in response.

Eventually, she licks her lips and lifts her head. Being out on neutral grounds with a fresh kill, she does not over exert herself on eating so they have ability to take it back and defend if necessary—one of them already coming true—and she swings to look further south of them to see the dark red coat of a woman. The scent leaves something familiar that she doesn’t sort for in that moment, but a low growl emits easily as the other decides to step closer—as if it is some buffet and it’s their time to move on—and her growl becomes louder in warning.

Come on, she thinks with a playful, deadly sneer, hoping for a reason to get rid of any excess energy.