RONIN
Ronin moves with the forest like the beat of his feet against the ground are a match for the pulse of nature, his chest heaving, breath coming in steady pants that fog the air before him. Steam rolls from his form as he moves, the sweat evaporating in the crisp Leafchange pre-dawn, and distantly the sound of the woods drops away to something else. Something more, something that can sense the movements of a predator in spasms of adrenaline that cause gooseflesh to rise on the back of his neck.
With a huff of effort that has every part of him roaring in rebellion, the Star skids to an abrupt stop. He closes his eyes. He Listens.
And when he moves again it's an abrupt change in direction, the huntsman vaulting across a pit undoubtedly used for hunting by the Fae, his pace picking up once more until he finds what he's after. The trickle of water is nothing to the Stonesong in earnest, but this small branch of the river is enough for him to splash through, to trudge up and against the running current, disguising the sound of his movements, his scent, all of it.
With a huff of effort that has every part of him roaring in rebellion, the Star skids to an abrupt stop. He closes his eyes. He Listens.
And when he moves again it's an abrupt change in direction, the huntsman vaulting across a pit undoubtedly used for hunting by the Fae, his pace picking up once more until he finds what he's after. The trickle of water is nothing to the Stonesong in earnest, but this small branch of the river is enough for him to splash through, to trudge up and against the running current, disguising the sound of his movements, his scent, all of it.
soft spoken with a broken jaw
we step outside, but not to brawl
we step outside, but not to brawl
