today, he is especially nervous. after a harrowing encounter with the blood-drinker lurking around their haven, the sharadoii princeling moves upon long, winded legs. skirting between trees surrounding the open lands with a haste, gathering a bundle of sticks, and filling a skin-sling pouch with mushrooms he knew to be good.
his mind presses heavily with thoughts.
he wishes to keep Elk Charm close—as close as possible. he does not like to let her out of his sight much these days. he does not like the hovering of lingering eyes—those who come to witness what the sharadoii women have to offer.
it is not a crime to want only the best for her!
and so indulged in his thoughts of brooding and contemplation, he nearly runs into the dark legs of a devil. lanzadoii pride, gleaming upon emerald eyes that swipe upwards to glean upon that one glaring, icy grimace. clay shrinks back, sticks fumbling from his toothy grasp and his hackles bristling with stark annoyance.
w-the sharadoii hunter flusters,
what are you doing?