Otter Creek I’m all yours

Still no response. Rather, there was a response, only it wasn’t really anything that he’d considered an actual word. Slowly, he came to realise that she likely couldn’t speak, which made him all the more interested. He lifted a forepaw as if he might take a step forward, stopped short by the risk of her running if he advanced; he left it to dangle in the air for a long moment before dropping in back into the same place it’d risen from, eyes never leaving her. He could see the tension in her body and hear the anxiety in her voice, all of which he blamed on his earlier, less-friendly approach. However, he was sort of being nice now, so what was she still all jittery about? It irritated him a bit, whilst the realisation that he wouldn’t have to drag himself through another introduction quelled his budding anger; the two things worked somewhat well to even him out, at least for now.

Besides, the way she was behaving convinced him that she wasn’t from the woods, so another plus there.

As he watched her, a single one of his ears flicked back at the sound of movement, a sidelong glance revealing to him the return of the otters. Without another word—there was clearly no use in trying to talk to her—he tossed his head in the direction of the hobbling creatures before lowering it, trying to get her in on his original plan; although he blamed her for his first failure, he could see the benefits of getting her help the second time around. With a few flicks of his tail, he tried encouraging her to go ahead of him, assuming it would cause the little guys to scatter like before. Only this time, he’d be there waiting to grab one—as long as she didn’t share the same stubborn streak with him, that is.