Something This Way Comes

The first sound he might have dismissed… but the second he couldn't. By the time he looked up, two shapes blurred through the trees; the first, tawny, small. DEER. The second, fleet, fast—faster—was paler, and altogether more wolf-shaped. Iarlaith watched as the woman collided with her prey, took it down with… uh, he'd call it remarkable ferocity, since grace didn't seem quite the right word, then fell to the earth beside her… victim. After brutally tearing its throat out.

By the time it'd come to an end, his maw hung open for altogether different reasons than a little tepid water. He was almost glad he was on the other side of the stream. And also, not a deer. He liked having pointy teeth, thank-you-very-much. And claws. Much less likely to get his throat torn out.

Then she noticed him. His brow raised. First one, then the other as she began to laugh, as if she found it all very much amusing. Should I tell her about all that blood in her fur…?

Nah.

"That was one hell of an entrance," he called over the water's soft burble, tail offering a half-wave before he plopped down on his hind end, head slouched and eyes forward. "Ten out of ten for style," he continued, half-smile smile widening into a cheeky grin. He was serious, somewhere under the vague, tongue-in-cheek delivery, of course. She'd done a nice job to take it down on her own. Was he impressed? Well, not in a way he'd let anyone else see. "And I guess you oughta get a few points for, uh, that take-down, too." Bloody hell, woman.