Word Count » 352
He did not smell of a pack -- the only scent he bore on him was that of himself, masculine and very faintly leathery, too, presumably from the things he wore on his flesh. Curiosity shone in her chartreuse eyes, and she focused on the rabbit momentarily, though no hunger growled in her stomach. She was well-fed again, and this showed in the meat on her bones. All gauntness had long disappeared from the sable hybrid when she joined Anathema. Larkspur provided for her and made sure she had quite enough to eat, and Sirius educated her. He had shown her how to hunt food for herself -- while it was still an embarassment to the coal hybrid that she had been so late in learning, she had learned, and her skill was marvelous -- at least, in her own eyes. In truth, Eris was not a very good hunter. While she could bring down prey, it took her painfully long, and she was unsuccessful far more often than she made a kill. Large prey, too, was quite nearly beyond her. Sirius had educated her in the ways of fish and rabbits, but she had yet to learn how to kill these larger creatures.
“Sir hunter,” the hybrid commented warmly as he approached, addressing him and not at once. His weapons remained where they were, comfortably tucked away, but she regarded them and him with wariness in her still, quite certain he was capable of turning the arrow against her if he should wish to. She did not want to bleed like the rabbit, nor have her neck snapped. “Better a hunter than an attacker,” she added, more dryly this time. The question was there, unvoiced and between her words. She did not think he was a danger to Salsola, but he was armed, and Eris knew better than anyone that she did not stand much chance of defending herself if it were to come to such a thing. “Eris Eternity,” she added, introducing herself with a nearly imperceptible tilt of her head, the closest a queen would come to a bow.
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