Sunspire Mountains all the butterflies have turned to vultures in my stomach

her nose sussed him before her ears had the chance and she stirred from her light slumber to the scent of coagulated blood looming near the black as pitch lair. a snorting, grunting noise of something rooting in the soil soon accompanied the smell, and briefly she thought ah. perfect—doubtless the razorbacks had returned, and while one wore the cruor of the injured, taking on a wild boar was a troubling task for a wolf², and being cornered in the cave with a potentially furious one just outside had put her in problematic fettle, in pretty much every possible aspect.

physically? damn she was in a tight spot. she could burst out with the advantage of surprise, bob and weave, and avoid being reamed on its tusks with some fancy footwork as she sought to r-u-n-n-o-f-t.

mentally? she was wildly unimpressed with the notion of being done in by a pig. insulted, really. she had something far more pitiable and shakespearian in mind for when her time to go to glory came. something lady macbeth-esque if she had anything to say about it.

alas, before she could map out her escape route, the form of a wolf barged past the threshold of the grotto. quiet as a fart on the battlefront she heaved herself upright, and immediately rang her bell, hitting her crown on the low ceiling in her agitation, "for love of—" she gritted her teeth. he passed again. and again. dude making crop-circles out there?

she was not a pair of exhumed eyes watching him from her limestone crypt. esmé was too busy waiting for her double-vision to coalesce and the throb on her pate to dissipate as the wolf outside made its redundant survey of the area.

she huffed with impatience, petulantly grabbed herself by the panniers and stormed from under the arch of darkness, squinting from the onslaught of sunlight, immediately starting to rant. "hellooo! would it trouble you to FUCK OFF, monsieur?" she didn't recognize riley, on account of all his injuries and the faint scent of a pack on his coat. also, he presumably hadn't met her gaze yet so she couldn't identify him by the fact that one of his eyes was going into the shop while the other was coming out with the change.

even if she did clock him immediately, esmé being esmé probably wouldn't have amended herself.  

she looked the male up and down. he looked scourged, but didn't seem to mind. a mirthless smile got comfortable on her lips. "are you the one who wrestled the boar out of this here cave? i give you my humble thanks," she said.

he'd gotten his shit pushed in, that was for sure.