Neverwinter Forest River, O River

Luhtar moved quietly through the underbrush, his broad shoulders brushing aside a few stubborn ferns as he headed out to hunt. He paused for a moment at the edge of the clearing, eyes scanning the length of the grove.

Just as he began to lower himself closer to the ground, preparing to slip into the deeper shadows, the soft sound of another’s approach reached his ears. He straightened, turning his head.

There, padding through the thinning canopy, came Y’var’la. Her shape moved steadily forward, stepping carefully through the fading light. Luhtar’s hunt would have to wait—unless...

He shifted his weight, giving a small call that'd hopefully only be audible upon her ears. "Y'var'la!" A whisper-yell. When she turned to look at him, he rolled his shoulders, teasing, beckoning.

"Up for a hunt?"

Y’var’la’s ears flicked toward the sound of her name, her sharp gaze narrowing as it caught Luhtar’s broad frame standing at the edge of the clearing. She tilted her head slightly, taking in the playful edge to his posture, the way his shoulders rolled in invitation.

For a moment, she simply observed him, her expression carefully neutral. Then, with a faint smirk curling the corners of her lips, she stepped closer, her movements measured and deliberate.

"And here I thought you preferred solitude." she mused beneath her breath, a note of mock skepticism in her voice. Her tail swished lazily behind her, betraying her intrigue despite her cool demeanor.

Stopping a few paces from him, she raised an elegant brow. "Mphm, very well. What are we after, then?"

Luhtar’s ears twitched at her remark, a soft huff of amusement escaping him as he eased his weight from one paw to the other. He dipped his head in a small, mock bow, acknowledging her jab about solitude with good humor.

“Let’s say I’ve found some charm in company,” he retorted. He took a half-step forward, head angling toward the distant rustling in the grove. “Heard movement further in. Might be deer—winter’s left ‘em lean, but they’re still around. Quiet steps and patience, we could flush one from cover.”

He lifted his muzzle, inhaling the crisp scent of moss and damp earth. The fading light softened the world around them, painting the leaves in muted blues and greens.

Y’var’la’s smirk deepened as Luhtar spoke, her eyes following the subtle motion of his head toward the grove. Her gaze flicked past him, scanning the darkened foliage with quiet calculation.

She stepped closer, her movements fluid, her tail brushing faintly against a low-hanging fern. Her nose lifted, testing the air as he had, her keen eyes narrowing thoughtfully

"Quiet steps and patience," she repeated, her tone lightly sardonic. "Think you can manage both at once?"

Without waiting for his response, she began to move toward the grove, inching forward with light paws, body low and poised like a shadow weaving through the underbrush. She glanced over her shoulder briefly, her sharp gaze catching his. "Come on, then," she said softly, her voice like the night wind. "Let’s see if you can keep up."

Luhtar watched her go, that subtle smirk of hers lingering like a distant star. He snorted quietly at her barb, amusement tucked behind a low rumble in his throat.

“Both at once,” he murmured under his breath, “should be interesting.”

The grove loomed ahead, dark and tangled, its scents shifting with every soft gust of wind. He followed, placing each paw with caution and care. His hulking form didn’t lend itself to silence by nature, but he knew how to move—at least, when it mattered.

Slow, steady breathing. The scent of pine and old leaves filled his nose, and something else—wild fur and distant musk.

Prey was near.

His gaze flicked to Y’var’la’s lithe shape as she slipped through the foliage. He admired the woman's ease, the way she seemed to melt into the underbrush. For a moment, he almost forgot the hunt, caught by the subtle grace in her movements, the confident set of her shoulders.

Focus, idiot.