CRUNCH, Go The Leaves

The wraith lingered near the outskirts of familiar eastern territories, not yet confident with his skills to the point that he would risk challenging the new Habari ruler. So when the echoes of laughter filtered from the thick forest to the south, he found it easy to slip into the undergrowth and follow the sounds to their source. A cinnamon pelted fae was leaping to and fro, crunching fallen leaves beneath her paws. Mismatched eyes tracked the way she danced over the crisp foliage, a wry grin toying at pale lips. Champagne forelimb extended from the undergrowth to test the ground. The withered leaves crackled beneath the pressure, crumbling beneath rosy paw-pads. A thrill tripped up his legs as he pushed out of the undergrowth to join her game without a word.

The cherry blossom trees didn't produce the kind of wide, leathery leaves that decayed on the ground here. They didn't crunch with nearly as much gusto beneath his paws. The ivory prince glanced over at the petite fae, just to see if she had moved on to any new moves he couldn't think of. As the inventor of this particular game, he was assuming that she had some insight into how to make the best crunching sounds come out of the leaves.

WC: 633/1500