Fairspell Meadow Come to me now and lay your hands over me

But Scorpion remained unlucky. Dragomir was a young man who always remained aware of his surroundings and, more importantly, he was an accomplished tracker. He'd learned a lot from Hydra and gone on to hone his skills in his relative solitude. He'd needed to in order to survive and thrive for so long. Beneath the cloying pop of fresh berries in his nose, which would have been a sufficient distraction for many an untrained yearling, he caught a whiff of his observer as well. He didn't know where she was, but he knew she was there, all cold stone and sharp eyes.

He'd been taught by Hydra to approach such threats directly, nip it in the bud with his own show of strength, but time alone had taught him that sometimes there was an advantage to be had in waiting. He stiffened his stance and tail and swivelled his ears in a wide circle, enough that whoever watched him might knew he was onto them, but beyond that he appeared to brush Scorpion off entirely. A slow blink of his hazel eyes as if to convey boredom, and then he began to jog forward, perpendicular to where she lay in wait.

But from the front, his eyes sparked with curiosity and mischief as he sought to lead her on, and he angled his left ear backward to listen for her.