There's an art to life's distraction, to somehow escape the burning wait, the art of scraping through
A pub crawl? Comes the incredulous question through the bond, some kind of amazement and some kind of horror both fighting for equal attention. All of Chuy's tone suddenly makes sense, the spectacle far beyond anything Hester's imagined. We've always only had just the one. I suppose... we do have two now, but... There's the sense of a head shaking in utter bewilderment, the gesture mirrored by her horned head, far below the other attuned.
Hester barely had time to glance up, to see the diving hawk as agreement and amusement both sounded in her head, her clip-clopping steps pausing to watch the descent. The next words spurred her into motion again, still feeling a little under prepared, but glad she'd gotten at least one concession.
Unfortunately for her, hiding was not exactly something that came naturally to her shifted form. She would have to be clever. As the numbers grew higher, Hester let more and more anxiety slip through the bond as she searched for a spot, finally creeping into a small niche made by two sheets of ice crashing into one another. It was deep, and low down, and hopefully, if she curled up with her back to the entrance, she would have enough camouflage to be passed over.
The silence in the bond is a touch Hester doesn't expect, and she reaches out for the other without thinking, the mental equivalent of an outstretched hand. Embarrassingly, it takes her a moment to realize, to withdraw the gesture and commit herself completely to hiding.
Hester barely had time to glance up, to see the diving hawk as agreement and amusement both sounded in her head, her clip-clopping steps pausing to watch the descent. The next words spurred her into motion again, still feeling a little under prepared, but glad she'd gotten at least one concession.
Unfortunately for her, hiding was not exactly something that came naturally to her shifted form. She would have to be clever. As the numbers grew higher, Hester let more and more anxiety slip through the bond as she searched for a spot, finally creeping into a small niche made by two sheets of ice crashing into one another. It was deep, and low down, and hopefully, if she curled up with her back to the entrance, she would have enough camouflage to be passed over.
The silence in the bond is a touch Hester doesn't expect, and she reaches out for the other without thinking, the mental equivalent of an outstretched hand. Embarrassingly, it takes her a moment to realize, to withdraw the gesture and commit herself completely to hiding.
Hester
