Cricket Creek Bog Another day

Cry wanted to snort at the bravado of the male, knowing full well he had innumerable different algorithms that he could use to not only pin, but efficiently kill the agouti with. He could effortlessly choose between whether he would use the most torturous or the most swift of deaths, and when to do so, the different feigns he could initiate with. As Cry studied the male, he had realized he hadn’t introduced himself at the subtle inclination, but never mind that. He did have to admit he hadn’t been on his assassinhood training, as he was trying to get over that livelihood. So maybe he had in fact gotten rusty in his trade. He could slip in one of those pins or even miss his mark. Maybe he was lucky. 

“Perhaps.”

Settling on dark hinds, Cry have his company a bit more chance at relaxing as he showed he wasn’t intending to kill him, should the same be proven rather than spoken.

”In truth, I was looking for hunting trails. I had eaten a while back, but always better to be prepared.”

A canted crown of vacuum-like darkness as he regarded the male. “How about yourself?”