Mudminnow River Bulbasaur

This hour of daylight was cold: instead of a high noon sun, there was a thick film of overcast presiding glumly over the earth. Though the wind had stilled for a time, the air remained hatefully close to freezing. Crumbled sediments of shale, mudstone, and marl crunched underfoot, and the ground felt frosted, even without any snow or ice to be seen. A fine time for dispersal.

The dourfaced Ohanzee moved with the stride of a lookout, or of someone with something to hide. He cut along the frontslope of a looming cuesta, glancing up at the escarpment of caprock as he passed beneath it. Quickfooted, he skirted along the easterly bank of a murky riverstream, heading north.

The look of a man with something to hide was a natural attractant to thieves. Nirali was distracted from her idle inspection of the frosted landscape by the crunch of his footsteps in the distance first. Then she took note of him, of the way he walked, and decided that she would follow.

She trailed him with featherlight steps, keeping a healthy distance between them; watchful, for now. She was curious to see just where he was scurrying off to. North, she gathered that much. To the coast, perhaps — but that was a ways off.

Well, she would just have to follow and see.

Though he looked over his shoulder often enough, even the naturally suspicious Hanze was unable to catch a glimpse of the skillful snoop on his trail. His stalker was at the top of their game, and it didn't help that their dappled coat blended well against the stone and gravel landscape.

But he would not be ignorant for too long.

Hanze paused to peruse a knot of thin bushes and hardy vegetation alongside the creek, scenting mice. It was during this that he caught movement in the corner of his eye. Muzzle snapping in their direction, Hanze froze as he stared intently over the rocky terrain, paranoid gaze scanning every inch of the rocky terrain.