Deepwood Weald Check the cupboard for your daddy's gun

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It took but a moment for the hunter to suddenly become the hunted. His eyes found her before she could pinpoint him, and he watched her move carefully with a gaze tinged with interest and something else unreadable. Grievous could tell she was searching for him, hesitating every few steps as she tried to discern where the smell of blood was coming from.

He felt almost as if he could read her mind, feeling closer to her in his imagination the more he stared and the longer it takes for her to see him. The wolf doesn’t move; his head level and his fat paws crossed neatly over the pulled-apart rabbit he had there. Mere moments had passed, but to him it felt like an eon— and he had come to know her quite well in the time it took for cobalt to find gold in the shadow of his presently claimed tree. Grievous remained unmoved, coolly waiting to see if she would be on her way or dare to venture nearer.

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