Erik doesn't dwell on the fact he's hunting with someone he hardly knows. Hell, he knows more about her than he does most of the loose hunting parties he's been a part of on the road. Something about traveling with Tate and picking up strays along the way. They all needed to eat, and they'd be more successful together. Facilitating the social interaction was usually his brother's job, but that's... fine. He can handle that too.
Gaze hitting the clusters of stately, shady trees, Erik's ground-eating gallop slows. First to a jog, and then a walk. Steps slow and predatory, rolling on the outside of his foot. As quiet as he dares, sticking to shade on his own. The scent of deer was stronger, droppings fresher. One deep breath, and then another.
As the breeze kicked up around him, Erik's gaze is drawn upwind once more. The herd, moving quickly. At the rear, a small doe with a limp. Erik offered a grumble to catch Clove's attention, a tip of his muzzle. Making sure the girl saw what he did before they made their pursuit once more.
"Speech"
Warning: posts from this character often involve body horror.
Erik has a Norwegian forest cat that is assumed with him at all times.
