Cedar Sweep Black swan

He hummed in agreement, there were certainly far worse tastes to endure. He didn’t envy medics. Their work was relentless, always scouring the land for herbs, identifying, collecting, applying. The thought alone exhausted him. No, he was perfectly content with his role as a hunter. The thrill of the chase, the final blow, the rush of adrenaline was something he sought in earnest.

Smirking to himself, he watched her fuss over her collection. Suck it up, eh? What a thought. Aren’t you just so clever. His voice oozed sarcasm, each word dripping like honey from his tongue.

Still, he watched her closely. He didn’t trust her, nor did he have any reason to. That wariness was quickly justified when she lunged at him.

His smirk only deepened. With a subtle shift, his stance turned defensive, muscles coiling beneath his pelt. He wasn’t concerned. She was small, after all, far too small to pose a real threat, or so he believed. Confidence surged through him, solid as stone, certain that no amount of force she threw his way could shake him.

Aw, did somebody get their feelings hurt? he sneered, copper eyes gleaming with amusement.