Lost Creek Hollow Those Who Wander

"that's where you're wrong, darling." condor threw his head back. "the least this rain and mud can do is offer me a little fun. but if you won't participate, i suppose i'll save the complaints for my siblings."

this was no wolf, but condor was surprised he'd condescend to something like a play-bow. and how interesting. a chase? condor was well experienced with those already. the gleaming centerpiece of life as a scavenger: knowing how to beat feet out of there when the person you were stealing from chose the worst possible time to show up. ah, and there was a thrill in it, wasn't there?

the second most important part, of course, was knowing exactly who you could fuck with and who you couldn't. there were so many ways for that to go wrong. condor ran a thoughtful eye over the man, but as he was not currently charging furiously in his direction, there was very little to be gleaned. condor's area of expertise lay solely in being chased from whatever cache he and his siblings had tracked down.

if it wasn't that, it was him doing the chasing. that was still fun but, such a shame, fun for him only.

"now, you don't have to convince me. i do enjoy a chase, from time to time." he gave a thoughtful hum – completely for the performance, of course. "though they often end in a little blood."