“If there are rams butting nearby then I will come hunt,” she breathed as she leapt for a lower rock. “Otherwise I wander here to pass the time.”
Without meaning to, the climb had become a kind of assessment by which the warrior was able to take more than just a face from the Creek wolf. His steps were quite sound, a mirror to her own, falling near seamlessly right after her own had been taken. Upon the mountains, she would have thought to have heard hesitation in his steps. Perhaps the clatter of stone as an uncertain paw shifted, or the break of rock as he applied a little too much weight in his bound. But no. It was very much the same as her own steps, as if he truly did not fear the jagged rocks below, or he was actual wise to the shape of the mountain and his following was little more than a game for his amusement. The latter thought did not sit well with her, but she thought it better than to assume without proof to go by.
Silently, she carried them further down the mountain til they rested on a ridge extending just above the plains. It was here that the woman folded down to her haunches and inspected a paw that had become a bother not a few minutes before. More than likely it was a tiny rock lodged in her pad somewhere. “Most find it difficult to hunt here,” she uttered softly, continuing their prior conversation before the lengthened pause. “But the reward is greater when caught. The meat is more tender and sweeter than deer.” She clipped at her paw but to no avail to dislodge the stone.
Leaving it be, she turned to Haunter and let her eyes rest on him seemingly for the first time. In the scrape in the Vale, she hadn’t noticed that one of his ears were missing. No doubt the adrenaline had done its work to mask anything that was not relevant to the situation. But seeing it now, she could not help but stare… almost admiring the unique tuff that remained til she thought it best to look away and survey the rest of his physique. She found a certain appeal in his appearance; large, like her, but was in her eyes defined by his legs as opposed to his bulk. Haphazard tuffs throughout his pelt made for a wild, unkempt coat donned across a formidable build. It was a body well suited for the warrior faction, without doubt. But for all she knew, he as indeed a part of something like it in the Creek. |