Hushed Willows panacea

Her focus is wholly devoted to the task at hand, though she is not unaware of the man's gaze upon her. She enjoys the attention, distantly — but they've already laid out their priorities. Whatever lurks behind the man's dark heated stare can be addressed after they've killed the kattardýr. They pass into unclaimed land, sparse woodland between the willows and the marsh, and all thoughts of whatever is building between them fade from her. She catches a hint of it on the breeze, fresh and near, and goes still for several moments, a statue with watchful eyes.
Rustling nearby, but she keeps her composure, stepping out slowly toward the sound and turning with a glance at her companion that says stay put and watch. The sound intensifies and then dies to a soft whisper, and she goes still again, head turning to follow the movement while the rest of her remains immobile. A cat, she tells herself, a stalker. The beast will not show itself until it believes it has an opportunity; this much she knows from experience with its smaller cousins. If they want to fight it, it must be lured out.
A moment later, her theory is proven correct — and she's ready for it. A flurry of sound and movement, and the creature leaps from its hiding place, a huge sandy hellcat with claws extended, coming from somewhere behind her. She whips back around with a snarl, avoiding its attempted ambush easily and lunging for one of its outstretched legs. The plan worked — and now it's time to stop playing games.