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She was determined for him to think she was gone, but could think of no way to inspire the assumption other than to stay utterly still and quiet from the moment he made an appearance from the house. Ever-cautious, she had sidestepped the moment she saw movement and hidden herself to the left of the half-closed door, her back against the wall. Here she could not watch, and could only trust to her ears to let her know if the stranger saw through her mixed trail maze. The silence beat heavy, but she heard no instant footsteps, no displeased approach, and her mind remained still. Like this, she could learn anything and be anywhere - trail anybody, if she could remain undetected. The possibilities seemed quite enthralling, and it would be a valuable string to her bow that was loaded for one woman alone.
Then a voice rang out, intangible in character and unclassifiable in tone but perfectly clear to hear. She felt a quiver of nerves and pretended for a moment he was not talking to her, but to the ancient buildings; questioning their existence. If he did intend his words for her ears, though, he must mean her unheralded presence. Was he used to outsiders announcing themselves to him, was he another of these mysterious northern wayfarers, wearing a crown of shadows and a lordly bearing with little care to explain it with a title? She was hardly unjustified in hiding, or fleeing. They were both far from home. She knew if she remained still or he moved away, her scent would fade and with it his consciousness of her location. Caspa was determined to discover more of him and see if he really did answer any of her questions about the place she had come to, but still feared revealing herself. She let the silence march on, turning very slowly to look at the door again. There was a gap just above the hinges, a long narrow crack where wooden door met post and this disproportionate picture-frame gave her, if she moved her head from side to side, a view of the canine once more. She could see little of his red eyes, now shrouded in displeasure. Was there a reason for his sensitivity - her presence was hardly threatening, and for all he knew, she was already fleeing the scene. Unless she had given away more than she meant to with her trail, but he hadn't spied her location just yet. She wished for a better view of the symbol on that black cloak, mystified by its meaning, but the actual hinge of the door barred even the slim sighting she could gain of the rest of him. Caspa stooped a little, but then he was not even visible. She wrinkled her long muzzle very slightly, irritated, but then thought of standing on tip-toe. She did so, and from here there was more possibility of a range of view - but she wasn't used to balancing on the very edges of her claws and rested a hand on the side of the door for balance. She was just straining and stretching to gain as much height as possible, neck craning giraffe-like, when the old and un-cared for hinges gave way. The door fell from its holding onto the wooden steps it topped, crashing down with as much sound as a falling tree, and followed inevitably by the form of Caspa tumbling like a puppet onto it so they fell together, sledding down the steps head-first. The edge of the rectangular door hit the ground, and sent her rolling sidelong off the treacherous household fitting, landing flat on her back, broken ribs screaming. She gulped, and then doubled up to clutch at her chest, eyes closing and knowing nothing more than the pain.
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