Herb Hunting

Having pillaged the entirety of the echinacea flowers that lined the base of the mound, Sephiran felt a wave of gluttonous greed roll through him. It satisfied him knowing he had taken all of the flowers, leaving none behind for someone else to harvest. He deserved them after all. Now that he had them in a pile, he went to work on separating the ones that were salvageable from those he would eat now or shred to bury. As he separated them, his attention was focused on his task, so he didn’t immediately notice the scent of a girl dancing in the breeze.

In fact, it wasn’t until she entered his peripheral vision that he would look up from his pile of flowers, heterochromatic gaze sweeping across the treeline, before it settled on the frame of a small girl. His frame pivoted slightly, so that he could turn to face her direction, to observe her for a few moments. He recognized the scent that clung to her pelt. It was the same scent that the Armada wolves had, which led him to believe she belonged to them. Perfect.

A smirk contorted his features, peeling his lips back as he flashed her a toothy grin. It wasn’t meant to be friendly, it was more of a taunt than anything. But however she perceived it, would be up to her. “A little far from home, aren’t we?” He crooned, as he took a few steps in her direction. Even with their distance, it was clear how much larger Sephiran, which only added to the intimidation factor. How would she react, he wondered?


"Speech"