[ She flinches a little as she hears the sound of his footsteps and, were she unused to it, she would have turned to aim something rather vile at his face. Luckily (for him or for her, she cannot tell) she is used to how he walks, at least when he approaches her, a lesson hard learned for the two of them together. Lauralae doesn't know enough of him to say much or do much other than let her gaze flick to his; their conversations have always been short and the trust between them hard won.
The rabbits, however, are welcome, for all that she once loathed the idea of eating meat, and she reaches for them and draws the small knife she wears at her side. She can use the pelts, he knows this, and she finds his consideration as charming as she can find anything; all she does is begin to skin them, her fingers moving nimbly. She has been alone for so long that tending to her own meal is second nature now, she barely needs to think.
Eventually, however, her eyes turn to him, gaze careful and measured. ]
my favourite kind of prompt
The rabbits, however, are welcome, for all that she once loathed the idea of eating meat, and she reaches for them and draws the small knife she wears at her side. She can use the pelts, he knows this, and she finds his consideration as charming as she can find anything; all she does is begin to skin them, her fingers moving nimbly. She has been alone for so long that tending to her own meal is second nature now, she barely needs to think.
Eventually, however, her eyes turn to him, gaze careful and measured. ]
You were successful, then.