Redhawk Caldera Getting high and skipping class

When she stepped in closer to catch his signs, he met her eyes and nodded once at her confirmation.

-Good.-

Her brief spark of surprise at his offer to let her lead tugged a quiet grin to one side of his mouth. The way she recovered—quick, composed, competitive—made the expression deepen.

At her plan, he studied her stance, the set of her shoulders, the measure of the buck ahead. Smart. Efficient. Exactly how he hunted too.

He signed back, slow but certain:

-You chase.-

Then, with a confident flick of his wrist:

-I… finish.-

Hotah shifted his weight, lowering into a ready crouch, muscles gathering beneath his dark coat. He gave her one last steady look—an unspoken I trust you, go on—and the smallest, almost teasing glint warmed his eyes.

-Go.-