4/5/2025, 3:22 AM
'If they dared, it would make them the savages, not you, my lady.'
His voice barely registered, a murmur echoing against the wind. She gave the smallest tilt of her tall ear, an acknowledgment without commitment. She did not pretend to understand the intricacies of foreign nobility — their rules, their petty grievances, their politics. But there was something in his tone, something measured and assured, that made her keen to believe him.
Takala's focus shifted. There was no use lingering on words when the present demanded action.
'They aren't particularly clever, but they can be quick. If you can keep up with it, herd it toward me, I will be able to dispatch it quickly.'
Takala’s gaze met his, pale eyes flickering with excitement. She dipped her muzzle in a nod, small and sharp, mirroring his own.
Don’t overthink it.
And then, she was gone.
The descent was swift and controlled. The cold air rushed past as she closed in, a pale streak against the earth, purposeful in her pursuit. The creature sensed her before she reached it; its head snapped upward, spindly limbs bracing. It turned to face her, wild-eyed, and in that moment, she noted its odd, barred iris. It quickly recovered her attention, lashing out with kicks and frantic bucks. But she was already moving, twisting and weaving past each strike, ivory teeth flashing. She did not waste energy on futile aggression. Every nip was precise, every snap designed to prod and steer. Just enough to...
The beast hesitated, then turned.
Good.
Takala cast a glance toward the ridge. Francis was no longer there.
She pushed harder, and while she couldn't disguise the hindrance that gnawed at her ribs, the creature had neither speed nor agility. Instead, what it had was power, brute strength that could overwhelm her alone. But she was not alone.
A scent caught her nose.
An outcrop. Thick with dense foliage, even in winter, leaves saturated in a blanket of snow that disguised his scent, if only barely. Just enough for the sheep to be none the wiser.
She halted, paws drilling into the ground, sending a spray of snow and silt into the air. Her breath curled in the cold.
"Francis! Now!"
His voice barely registered, a murmur echoing against the wind. She gave the smallest tilt of her tall ear, an acknowledgment without commitment. She did not pretend to understand the intricacies of foreign nobility — their rules, their petty grievances, their politics. But there was something in his tone, something measured and assured, that made her keen to believe him.
Takala's focus shifted. There was no use lingering on words when the present demanded action.
'They aren't particularly clever, but they can be quick. If you can keep up with it, herd it toward me, I will be able to dispatch it quickly.'
Takala’s gaze met his, pale eyes flickering with excitement. She dipped her muzzle in a nod, small and sharp, mirroring his own.
Don’t overthink it.
And then, she was gone.
The descent was swift and controlled. The cold air rushed past as she closed in, a pale streak against the earth, purposeful in her pursuit. The creature sensed her before she reached it; its head snapped upward, spindly limbs bracing. It turned to face her, wild-eyed, and in that moment, she noted its odd, barred iris. It quickly recovered her attention, lashing out with kicks and frantic bucks. But she was already moving, twisting and weaving past each strike, ivory teeth flashing. She did not waste energy on futile aggression. Every nip was precise, every snap designed to prod and steer. Just enough to...
The beast hesitated, then turned.
Good.
Takala cast a glance toward the ridge. Francis was no longer there.
She pushed harder, and while she couldn't disguise the hindrance that gnawed at her ribs, the creature had neither speed nor agility. Instead, what it had was power, brute strength that could overwhelm her alone. But she was not alone.
A scent caught her nose.
An outcrop. Thick with dense foliage, even in winter, leaves saturated in a blanket of snow that disguised his scent, if only barely. Just enough for the sheep to be none the wiser.
She halted, paws drilling into the ground, sending a spray of snow and silt into the air. Her breath curled in the cold.
"Francis! Now!"
