mhph. i pity the women of your home, then. the thrill of the hunt was one unmatched—sad that so few ladies knew. stay wide, she murmured, low enough not to carry, her eyes flicking once to mark his position along the creek before she moved.

she arced, circling just enough to cut the wind as the pheasant slipped further from the brush. closer, closer, before she finally lunges, forcing the bird away from the water and toward the jodai.

“Your home,” jodai made to amend, a haughty smirk tracing the rugged jawline, for she was an egyptian now, and a highly regarded one at that. From the thick line of reeds and bullrush he watched her lithe hunter’s dance, timing his own feint as she steered the waterfowl for his strike.
Paws swept the air first then plashed into shallows, spooking the quarry backward in showers of ruddy feathering.
This was Y’var’la’s hunt and now Sapair would delight in watching her make the kill.

the bird lurched, wings beating hard as it veered back toward the reeds, right into the space she’d left waiting. she surged forward to meet it with no wasted effort. her body cut low through the brush, a flash of taupe as she closed the gap in a breath. jaws snapped once, and the frantic beating of wings stuttered into silence beneath her hold.

for a moment she stood there, chest rising steady, feathers caught against her muzzle. firming her grip, y'var'la lifts her head and turns back towards him, catch kept neatly between her teeth.

a flick of her ear. not quite a smile, but close.

“Well done, scribe.”
Esteem is on the roughened face as he gestures for Y’var’la to keep the fowl, her rightful prize. Sapair would join the palace for supper.
He was scarcely nearer to knowing her nature. The warm green eyes would linger with him long after.