The fox-predator held Deilakrion's attention. All of it that she had to give besides the natural and necessary awareness of her surroundings (which was what the deer-flesh was counted as, and dismissively so) belonged to the fox-predator. It was a measure of survival as much as it was of respect ...

Waiting was part of hunting, and Deilakrion had always been good at it. She kept her presence soft and quiet, unmoving when the deer-flesh joined her. She could smell the nervousness, and approved the caution. Prey-beasts needed to be wily. Violence was so often their end, but too did it tend to be ...

The forest slowly expanded back into norlmacy as the fox-flesh went away, and Deilakrion hid. The Hunt leered sideways at her from between the branches of bush and tree, silent accusations ripe with anger. Deilakrion cowered from them too, more afraid than she could ever remember. She had failed the ...

Prey froze, trembled. Death was a tangible thing in the wild, a prescience that was base instinct and as finely tuned as any fleshy skill. Not all were worthy of the hunt. Prey was always falling to predators. Sometimes. . .sometimes predators fell to predators.

Deilakrion froze. The sense of ...

Should have sensed the fox-flesh. Should have known . Maybe it had been there, in the recesses of her mind; a fleeting awareness that had been too dim to touch the hot embers of her fleshlike worry. Deilakrion didn't like it. She didn't like the words that came from the fox-flesh, nor the ...

Leave them. Watch them. Stalk them. Choices. Deilakrion didn't want choices. She wanted a clear, open forest without looming grey possibilities making her head hurt. Simplicity, that was what she consumed in the largest quantities, and those two were not. They would get stuck in her throat, choking ...

Why?

Hesitation wasn't easy for Deilakrion. She made decisions. Too much of her life existed on the edge of death, where speed mattered more than wisdom. She was not built for that, never had been much at anything beyond the simplicity of her now. The two fleshy-beasts before her didn't match any ...

Deilakrion stopped. She stared, though not at the eyes or the face. She looked hard at the fleshling hands and body, confusing and strange. Unwelcome, the feeling that welled beneath her breast, pushing out to twist her lips and buck her eyebrows across the bridge of her nose as her thoughts spun ...

The fox-flesh was acting strangely. Distress shadowed her every move, and sorrow dogged her expression. Deilakrion was unsure why she was being told these things. Why should she involve herself? Killing flesh was pleasant when boundaries were overstepped, but only one had overstepped any boundaries ...

" Flesh kill." Deilakrion said sharply to Niabi.

They were here. They did not answer. They might not leave.

She couldn't have that. She didn't want it. They might ruin and topple what she had made for herself, for a creature only. Their presence was stifling, and without a reply she was at a loss ...

Truly the world was determined to not leave her alone. Bloodsmells did mean extra visitors, usually, but of the canny and dumb variety. Not the strange mix collecting to tease and taunt at her, purposes unknown. Were they for the man? Fleshes traveled together, always more and more and never enough ...

Jeeeez, it's taking you long enough you old codger.

If it's anything similar to chezak's sudden absence, it likely has to do with lots and lots of tests.

Death was something that Deilakrion dealt with an open hand. She did not begrudge any other with its use, treating it only as a tool and a natural result of the Hunt. She had not kilt the man she held so closely, so intimately, though from certain viewers' vantages it might appear thus. Instead she ...

Wait, so if I don't have a costume I don't have to post pictures?

I can't wait to see Alley in his costume.

Also, wtf are those weapons? They look too short to be swords. Yayyy for costumes!