"Now what, snake-shyke?"
If anyone else had dared use the Myrian slang for the Dhani to Razkar's face, they'd have lost a tooth (at minimum). But the smirking male knew well his female, seeing her attitude was from discomfort, not malice... and he gave a roll of his eyes, catching the vial offhanded.
"Now we hunt." He said with an amiable smile, then switched back to Common. "Oh, stop being so dramatic..."
He turned his back on her grumbling form and concentrated on the task at hand. She'd wanted this, after all. You want it, you better be prepared for all of it. The Myrian sniffed the air, trying to sense something beyond the cloying stench of old urine.
Not much, but... no. Cold's drying their droppings too fast for the stench to carry. Looks like we'll be relying on our eyes and ears.
The deeper they slunk and crept, the more Razkar was realized the strange paradox at work. He was, obviously, in a forest, filled with trees and branches and little lumps of sticks that used to be bushes. So little green, though... so open and without the impenetrable canopy of Falyndar.
Forest, yes. Jungle? Not even close.
"What is this?"
More vexing was Edreina's unconscious reminding of him that in these lands, the Myrian hunter was far from knowledgeable. Deer, boar, squirrels, wolves, the larger beasts of the wilds, yes, he knew them. But the wilds themselves? Goddess... everything was different. They didn't pulse with life like in the jungle, an endless, unfathomable teeming of countless creatures. Here the forests seemed dead, or sleeping, and Razkar was actually surprised a patch of moss had survived the cold. Ah, speaking of which-
"Well, ah..." He said hesitantly, trying to think of any words other than "I have no petching clue", "It... looks like, ah... fungus."
The deadpan look she gave him was enough to wither the most virile of egos, and finally he just shrugged.
"Fine, I have no petching clue, can we get on with this, please?"
Get on they did, until the frost- and snow-caked ground finally gave up something. Razkar's eyes glittered as he crouched down lower, seeing a familiar imprint in the snow. He bent down closer, marveling at how hard something could be to make out just because it was all in white. But there were contours there, a shape that his fingers could caress...
"Deer." He whispered as his female came over, eyes skimming over the track at his fingers and finding another, and another, working out the direction. "Heading... over the hill. Probably to a stream or a pond. Maybe-"
The wind picked up and instead of a rustling of leaves there was a rattling of dead, stricken branches, but even that couldn't hide the sound. Something definitely... living, breathing, snorting against the ground on the other side of the rise. A burst of crushed branches and crunching leaves that was more than just snow falling from the trees.
The Myrian turned to his lover and smiled, but not just at the sound. Her face bore the same light of realization: she'd heard it too. He leaned in close and pecked her cheek, just once (not thinking until after that he might have got some of the deer piss on his face).
"Getting better, my wave," he muttered, unlimbering his bow and notching an arrow, "Stay low as you can. Once we reach the top of the rise, we'll see what we have found, and the best place to shoot from. Remember: nothing more than a whisper, and luck is with us." He shot her a quick, feral grin and winked "We're downwind. As long as we don't make too much noise nor show ourselves, this should be simple..."
Famous last words, many would have told him as they watched the Myrian and the Svefra begin their slow creep up the wooded hill. Other beasts roamed the Wilds outside Sunberth, and given their ghastly human neighbors, most learned to distrust the rampaging two-legs. They rarely got these deep into the woods, however... and for good reason.
Half a league away, something vast and furry sniffed the air and made a confused little snuffling sound with a snout as long as Razkar's forearm.
Bad smell. Wrong. Close.
