January 15, 2024, 02:43 PM
He picked his way along the coast, weather permitting, and when the snow started falling in largely silent swaths the hunter paused to gather his bearings. Up until this point the sky had been clear — the steppes leading towards steep cliffs or barnacled beachfront barraged with winds — and as this settled, the snow came. He was wind-whipped and muddy while it gathered around him, and then as Mesa plunged onward to see what was to be scavenged across the shoreline, the depth of snow managed to cleanse him of some murk.
The layered scent of many women came to him, contrasting against the emptiness of the winter air, the bite of the cold against his snout. He tasted the air with a flick of his tongue and sharp inhalation, snake-like perhaps; testing to see if this was some kind of wintertime mirage — but no, it was real. Someone lay claim to the land ahead, and he could go no further without drawing attention.
Had this been any other season, Mesa would have made an attempt. Instead he lingered and then drew back, putting more distance between himself and those strong indicators that the area belonged to someone; affording this a wide berth while also studying the terrain for signs of life, be they prey or predator.
The layered scent of many women came to him, contrasting against the emptiness of the winter air, the bite of the cold against his snout. He tasted the air with a flick of his tongue and sharp inhalation, snake-like perhaps; testing to see if this was some kind of wintertime mirage — but no, it was real. Someone lay claim to the land ahead, and he could go no further without drawing attention.
Had this been any other season, Mesa would have made an attempt. Instead he lingered and then drew back, putting more distance between himself and those strong indicators that the area belonged to someone; affording this a wide berth while also studying the terrain for signs of life, be they prey or predator.