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.

Y’var’la had paused a few strides ahead, her body a taut line of readiness. Her ears swiveled, attuned to the grove’s whispers, and when she turned her head slightly, her sharp eyes caught his. Without a word, she nodded—a subtle gesture, but clear.

Stay low. Keep quiet.

He matched her pace, moving in tandem with her lead. Together, they closed the distance between themselves and the grove’s heart, where the shadows seemed thicker, deeper, alive with promise.

The sound of hooves—soft, deliberate—broke the quiet.

There. Just beyond the clustered trees, a lean shape moved, its outline barely visible in the fading light.

Luhtar steadied his breath, sliding another step forward until he felt twigs crackling beneath his paws. He froze briefly, heart pounding, but the deer seemed oblivious in its foraging.

He lunged.

In a heartbeat, he burst through the last of the foliage, jaws parted in a snarl that cut through the grove’s hush. Leaves scattered, twigs snapped, and the deer’s head jerked up, ears flinging wide in alarm. For a moment, it hesitated, torn between fight and flight.

His strong limbs pummeled the damp earth as he barreled toward their prey, blocking its escape route deeper into the grove. He barely noticed Y’var’la’s lithe form moving in tandem. The deer leapt to dodge him, but his momentum was too great; he hooked its flank with a fierce nip, aiming to drive it toward Y’var’la’s waiting jaws.

The deer veered sharply, hooves skidding across the soft, mossy ground as it tried to regain its footing. Its panic filled the grove, sharp breaths and the clatter of movement echoing in the enclosed space. Luhtar’s nip had done its job, unbalancing the creature and forcing it into a desperate, disoriented dash.

Y’var’la was ready.

She struck with precision, her lithe body a blur as she darted from the shadows. Her jaws clamped down on the deer’s neck, her grip strong and unyielding. The beast thrashed wildly, hooves kicking out in an instinctual bid for survival, but Y’var’la held firm.

Luhtar surged forward the moment Y’var’la’s jaws found purchase, his powerful frame closing the distance with a purposeful stride. The deer’s desperate thrashing sent dirt and moss scattering, its hooves striking blindly at the air. He growled low in his throat, a guttural sound that carried both approval and focus as he moved in to finish the job.

With a calculated leap, Luhtar lunged for the deer’s hindquarters, his jaws locking firmly onto the sinewy flesh just above the joint. His weight dragged the struggling creature further off balance, its legs buckling beneath the combined assault. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and adrenaline, the thudding of the deer’s heart palpable as its movements began to slow.

Luhtar adjusted his grip, powerful jaws clamping down harder as he anchored himself against its resistance. “Almost,” he growled, his muscles straining as the deer’s strength waned. He felt the tension in its body falter, its kicks becoming weaker, more frantic, until they finally stilled.

Luhtar released his hold, stepping back to let Y’var’la maintain her grip until she was sure it was done. His yellow eyes flicked to her briefly, a faint glimmer of satisfaction in his gaze.

“Good strike,” he said, his voice rough but genuine. He shook out his fur, dislodging bits of moss and dirt clinging to his frame, and gave her an approving nod. “Deer not easy. You move fast. Precise.”

Y’var’la released her grip once the deer had gone still, stepping back with quiet, measured breaths. She gave a cursory flick of her tongue to her jaws, tasting the metallic tang of blood before lifting her head to meet Luhtar’s gaze.

There was no immediate gloating or dramatics, only the calm certainty of a hunt well-executed. “You’re not bad yourself,” she replied. The woman gave him a sidelong glance, sweeping her tail through the air.

She lowered her head to inspect their kill, her paws carefully turning the creature as she examined its weight and health. “Winter’s been harsh on these,” she murmured, almost to herself, before straightening and shaking out her fur. “We’ll make the most of it.”