Grouse Thicket Where the wild things are.

Sorry for the lag on this one!

The boy looked dumbstruck. Maybe he had been so focused on his hunt that he hadn't been aware of his audience? That sounded accurate enough, judging by the way he stared back at her, then fumbled his words. The longer he fumbled and the more Stryx could observe, the less the term boy really fit her mental description of him. He was older than a mere child - closer to her own age, perhaps.

He spoke in painful spasms replete with immaturity, which was why she had mistakenly deemed him young. That said, between the two of them the lethargic Stryx was comparatively lethargic, and as impressive as his hunting skills appeared, his lack of social intuition caused Stryx to mentally erect her usual walls.

Not disturbed at all, she quipped. I'm lookin' for some fresh herbs. Did you notice any while you chased the bird, or...? She doubted it very much. He seemed quite focused. Nevermind. Probably trampled them. She gave one glance at the dead thing he loomed over, and moved in a crescent around his position, her head low as she investigated patch after patch of green.