( He does not, it emerges, know what to do — nor possesses the natural, animal grace that would make the slip of his body down the mouth of the enclosure a natural, silent trickle. He betrays himself, first in the rustle of his silks, then in the incongruous, inevitable brakes of his body, when he attempts to catch the root of a downed tree or a nearby pillar and stay himself from slipping on ice that's oozed within. A door left too long open.
The house — the den — reeks of wet fur and stale air, of beastly squalor. He scrunches his nose, slants his gaze, but walks the site, careful when floors threaten to decay and break down.
He suspects they will encounter wolves — draws back, searching each way with his sword drawn, when all that remains to be discovered are... scraps of fang-tattered knits, covered in hair. Spreads of feeding. He kneels down. )
no subject
( He does not, it emerges, know what to do — nor possesses the natural, animal grace that would make the slip of his body down the mouth of the enclosure a natural, silent trickle. He betrays himself, first in the rustle of his silks, then in the incongruous, inevitable brakes of his body, when he attempts to catch the root of a downed tree or a nearby pillar and stay himself from slipping on ice that's oozed within. A door left too long open.
The house — the den — reeks of wet fur and stale air, of beastly squalor. He scrunches his nose, slants his gaze, but walks the site, careful when floors threaten to decay and break down.
He suspects they will encounter wolves — draws back, searching each way with his sword drawn, when all that remains to be discovered are... scraps of fang-tattered knits, covered in hair. Spreads of feeding. He kneels down. )
...roast pheasant. ( Wolves of fine taste. )