Whittle Away the Time We Have

She wrinkled her nose at him. How could anybody enjoy standing out in the cold all day? “There's method to my madness” though she wasn’t entirely sure if that was true. She was making it up as she went. Teaching herself to hunt, teaching herself not to cower under the gaze of a stranger.

He bowed over a paw to her, not a gesture anybody had ever made to the once slave-daughter. She found herself enamoured by the act. Not that she would be foolish enough to let it get to her head. Just because she refused to be afraid, didn’t mean she didn’t think he meant her ill.

Her eyebrows twitched at his words on his looks and eyes. It seemed she wasn’t the only one to see him and think Tall. Powerful. Demonic. Of course… wasn’t that exactly what a demon would say?

She forgot everything else when he handed her an olive branch. Hope rising in her eyes, though she liked to think her emotions weren’t so obvious. He was offering to show her how to hunt, to learn on the go. To take down an elk. It was a pretty good offer, heavily in her favour, but she didn’t want him to know that. “I might be interested. What's the cut percentage each of the Elk?” if he was out here solo, he wouldn’t need all the kill anyway. Pride was in her eyes as she thought of bringing home a decent portion of an elk to her new pack.

"Speech"