just mean you’re gettin’ harder to track,he said, tone rough but low.
used to be i could hear your teeth chatter a mile off.
the path ahead narrowed, forcing them closer. his shoulder brushed hers, just briefly, and then he was ahead again— head low, ears pivoting to some distant rustle. he didn’t speak for a beat.
then, softer:
’s not a bad thing.
he didn’t elaborate. didn’t need to. the silence that followed was familiar, easy— the kind that only came when two people knew where the other stood. he just kept moving, nose to the wind, eyes on the brush. the hunt would begin soon. they'd always worked best that way— no orders, just motion.