Kintla Flatlands higher ground, had to be told

wintersbane looks between the two of them, gaze flickering from the girl — whom doesn't appear to have inhibitions or any sort of weariness of them despite their status as three strangers — her tail stirring the air as he approaches the scene. the woman speaks, then, clarifying that she'd been attempting to hunt. she did not speak it, but wintersbane is capable of reading what goes unsaid: that she's, perhaps, temporarily abandoned her plight. he makes a small noise of acknowledgement in his throat; not quite a rumble but not quite a grunt either.

the girl does not speak, but as his gaze falls back to her — wondering why there are no adults with her and knowing first hand what the worst case scenario could come to be with the innocence and naivety he senses. he feels a deep seeded urge to protect no doubt drawn from his own personal experiences and the recent experience of finding and returning the redhawk boy. he'd argue that he'd never been a guardian in his life ( er, rather, he'd already had that argument with a fellow loner a while back ) but there was something inherently relieving to know that his heart hasn't turned entirely to stone in his plight to build the impenetrable fortress around himself.

the girl is the first to crouch into a play bow, followed by the woman whom then lunged at the girl's side. he knows the woman is indulging the girl in play — he's seen the goofy bow the woman had lowered herself into seconds before the lunge — and yet the desire to lurch forward and put himself between the girl and the woman is overwhelming. he hesitated and visibly lurches in place, muscles tensing as ears splay back against his skull. after a prolonged moment, wintersbane, too, crouches down into a play bow, though he keeps a watchful eye to the distance, still expecting a guardian, cubsitter or parent to come charging into the fray.