I was born for this

Stalker Skill

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 Rain lightly drizzled from the sky, falling down and hitting her dark face. Despite the rain the moon still showed bright, illuminating her path and helping her avoid any unnecessary injuries. Her nose allowed her to follow the scent of fresh water which she'd been tracking for a few hours now. The woman usually enjoyed living near the ocean but it didn't allow for her to quench her thirst. 

 With how far she'd been ranging, she eventually heard the sound of flowing water from a river and sped up to a trot. She went down the side of the shoreline and stopped at the flowing water. The sound of it filled her ears as she lowered her head and began to drink, thirstily gulping down full mouthfuls while it ran down the dark furs of her muzzle.

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The heavens from above came pouring down, and along he slunk, sullen and wet. Soft grass and mud squelching from underfoot, dirtying his paws, his legs. His blond fur darkening from the damp.

And it was by chance, that he happened upon her.

That he found the parting in the trees that opened to the river.

He froze.

Remembering, the soft glow of moonlight from above, and the way it filtered in through the trees from between overarching branches. The sound of water babbling. And, wet lungs, struggling to breathe.

He stared.

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 The sound of squelching mud and the approaching creature was quite obvious. She heard him long before she could see him. An ear tilted back in his direction, towards the treeline. Her head followed quickly so that she could figure out where he was. There, staring from the trees. 

 For a moment, she stared back and then she would turn ever so slightly but lower her head back down. Turning was a way for her to keep him in her line of sight while she drank. Her eyes weren't on the water, they were on him in case he tried anything. And then, after a few more moments, she finished and lifted her head. Rain washed gently over her face and water from the river completed the collection by flowing down her chin. She said nothing and watched with no expression visible, making sure that he wouldn't try anything. The way he stared, she didn't trust him not to barrel down on her when her back was turned.

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She moved for the water—

And drank, long and slow.

He blinked.

Huffed, when he saw her staring, her eyes against his. His ears rolling back, and he shifted, moving his weight from one leg to the next.

“What.” He demanded. His voice flat, pitched purposefully low. His hackles bristling, and his teeth on edge.

Like he hadn’t been the one staring in the first place.

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 He shifted his body, ears rolling back. Blackfoot noted all of this but she didn't move. Was he uncomfortable? Was he also afraid of being attacked from the back? "Don't want to be attacked. From behind." Which she was more concerned about now that he was bristling. Her gaze slid over the raised fur, noting the tense body language. 

 Perhaps she should nip this in the bud to see what he wanted. "Trying to drink? Just staring? Or contemplating attacking?" For the former she would move and allow him his way. If he was just a weirdo that was staring that was one --annoying-- ignorable thing but the last... she wanted him to know that she was aware if he was going to make a move. Perhaps it would put off an attack, it was harder getting at an aware target.

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‘Don’t want to be attacked.’

He bristled.

Indignant.

“Why the fuck would I attack?” He sneered. Snapped. Stepping forward from where he stood. His lip curling, peeling, and his hackles raised, stiff and wet.

She wasn’t fucking doing anything.

He wasn’t a fucking psychopath.

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 He continued to bristle, continued to show aggression. Her own hackles rose and as he stepped forward, she stepped back. Her eyes remained on him. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him. She noted idly that they were around the same size. Someone of her similar caliber was not someone she wanted to waste time and resources fighting with. Could she outrun him? She was not fast but was he? That was the gamble... Maybe she could get a quick bite into a tendon or muscles to impede him and then get away. 

 All of these options flashed within her mind in an instant as he continued to be aggressive and ask his question. She shrugged in reply. How would she know? Her own mother had ripped her ear for not more than a single errant word. She'd seen others rip into yearlings because they looked at them "wrong". Why should he be any different? Still, she stepped back again, putting more distance between them in case he did do something. No one needed a reason to do anything, that's why it was dangerous to be alone.

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Forward he stepped—

And backwards she went.

Fucking typical.

Just another fucking nobody, starting shit they couldn’t fucking end.

Whatever.

And the words, the words were there, just on the tip of his tongue. Two simple words. The words he always held in reserve everybody and anybody that he deemed deserving.

Kill yourself.

But for some reason, the thought of saying it didn’t feel so good.

“Coward.” He said, instead, from over his shoulder. His voice flat and his eyes apathetic as he turned to leave.

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 He went forward and then she back, an endless dance. She would not allow him in close, to do so would be stupid. To risk life and limb for pointless squabbles was stupid. She would not be stupid, she would survive and make sure she was able-bodied enough to continue to do so for a long time. 

 Coward. The word amused her but she wouldn't refute it. "Perhaps." She said simply. For perhaps he would see it as cowardly that she chose to protect life and limb. "But not stupid." Because fighting pointlessly was. For defending "honor" was. She would watch him retreat if he continued to do so and return to her own business, satisfied that she would not be accosted further.

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