She rested her head on forearm, the silky, spotted fur resting gently against her cheek, tapping the sharp claw on the end of her hand against her temple, the cat-like ears on the top of her head, sprouting out from a mess of short, yellow hair, twitching as he stepped on another stick. Now that she thought about it, watching him rumble through the underbrush, he was more like a very fat rat meandering its way through the forest floor, caution thrown to the wind in its arrogance to satisfy its hunger, not knowing an owl hovered just above, watching in bemusement at its antics. She had to stifle a chuckle at the comparison: it wouldn’t be fun if the prey knew it was being hunted just yet.