1/31/2025, 9:23 PM
It was better to travel during the night.
Pack strangers were cornered off, lonesome strangers had typically bedded down. This left little room for encounters, for which Buckley was relieved. This perceived isolation made him a little reckless as did his hungering stomach and they entwined miserably to make him more or less unawares of the pale little stranger who came to recognize his presence before he did hers.
Buckley only would when he slipped out from within the shadowed foliage made winter hardy and plodded his way into the small meadow where, after a moment of scanning the area, his narrow eyes landed on the seemingly sedate stranger.
Was it—she?—dead?
He lowered his head and slowly approached and then, quite suddenly, let out a shrill yelp as the stranger's head moved.
If he hadn't noticed her inability to stand, he would've ran but as it went now, she was still and staring and he was uneasy.
"Trap?" He called out, tone flat. "Didn't fall for it."