Anju
The man’s regard is more animal than human, which perhaps makes it easier for her to meet it head on without her normal social awkwardness. There is intent here, a hunt on which to focus instead of normal bumbling niceties and small talk that Anju always inevitably fucks up. His attention returns to the foliage, and when his voice meets her ears she gives a soft hum of contemplation. “We shall flush it out,” she declares simply. Sparing no thought for his potential confusion over the ‘we’ that truly does not include him, she sends the plan to Riya, who spirals down in a dramatic flourish of dark wings to skim the tops of the bushes behind whatever is lurking. A small threatening bit of fire licking in her mouth as added incentive, though it carefully remains there lest they start a forest fire.
