Larksong Grotto You're sweet, my dear

she watched him seemingly deflate. mireille licked the last blood from the edge of her jaw and felt herself grow irritated. 
normally she might have spoken with him, probed for the source of his sudden mood. yet in this second she was only vaguely frustrated. if he did not want her, then she would not stay.
for the sake of his hunting, mireille lingered after she stood. it was clear that without a word to call her back, she would leave him here and seek deeper into the taiga.
quiet. watchful.