Ocean's Breath Plateau until his feet bleed and

glacial gaze watches as she jumps out of her hiding spot and land in a playful bow before him. he does not expect her to leap up and nip at his shoulder, still riding her high of delight. for a long moment, wintersbane doesn't react one way or the other; for during that long stretch of seconds his mind almost blanks. he is a soturi and allowing things like that could easily be the difference between life and death when faced with an opponent ...especially if they whittle down his guard. but she's harmless. well, not perhaps harmless but the action itself was. it was innocent, a lapse and action created in the paramount of their game. her teeth hadn't even broken skin. no need to be an ass about it, he tells himself. he smirks at her but otherwise keeps his internal struggle on how to deal with the playful nip she gave to his shoulder ...internalized.

her question made him snort, a soft thing, not meant to mock. it incredibly innocent too. though wintersbane is glad he is the spitting, masculine image of his late mother it makes him better suited for the shadows and sweet moonbeams of night as opposed to the brightness of daylight...even shadows of the day offer little respite. light still manages to find a way to combat them. "well," the maned tundrians drawls on a breath. "i kind of stick out like a sore thumb during the day." he makes an errant sort of 'ta-da' gesture with his body, drawing her attention to his blue-black pelage.

she doesn't appear overly perturbed by it, however, and encourages him to hide anyway by announcing that it's his turn. the pressure to find a good hiding spot was on but part of wintersbane lacked confidence in his ability to do so. as her count began he rubbed his shoulder against several different trees, weaving this way and that knowing and accepting that he wasn't likely to win it. he finds the darkest hiding spot he can: a thick and dense dark green bush of some sort with enough room for him to fit his bulk beneath. he ducks beneath it, letting out a small hiss as it's spindly branches tug at tufts of his fur but hunkers down and waits nevertheless.