[quote=@Caits]
Satisfied she was prepared, Abigale started out. She had her spears strapped over her back, within easy reach and in a way that she could pull it free and attack or defend quickly. She had her water skin attacked to her clothes, and again, it was in easy reach. She glanced about, looking to see if there was anyone else gearing up for the hunt.
[/quote]

And there, not so far away, standing in front of old man Loghos' hut, was Yel'Shadar, stringing his bow and making it ready for use. Ever the early bird, he had already finished applying his body paints with the help of Loghos, who had become something of an uncle to him ever since the death of his father. His paints today complemented his tattoos well, for the patterns on his arms, belly and legs mimicked those of the Mudain raptors. Of course, Yel had asked for something humbler, but the aging hunter whose awful foot blister was only beginning to heal insisted on Mudain patterns because, one: such markings were appropriate for something as auspicious as the dawn of a new cycle; and two: because he thought that Yel deserved it for his skill. The boy argued to an extent, but he never got the Tarkmande patterns that he asked for. A youth, after all, can only get so far when speaking with elders... especially those who weren't his father.

But such thoughts weren't auspicious, so Yel shook them from his thoughts as he began to bend and stretch, testing the limberness of his physique. A remarkable thing about the boy was that he would never display pride nor joy at his truly impressive musculature. A hunter from birth, with his training and ventures unrivaled in exclusivity and intensity under the guidance of his late father, his body looked like it had been destined for the wild hunt. With bronzed skin, rippling with taut muscle from calf to thigh, stomach to biceps - it was strange indeed for someone his age to be quietly resigned about it all. He was a promising young man and clearly he had the essence of a Mudain in him, but he'd never been seen trying to impress a girl. Even the old crones' all-knowing rumor mill was without anything juicy regarding Yel'Shadar. The Elders were somewhat concerned at this, but most ruled it out as him being an exceptionally late bloomer. "The death of his father still has a profound effect on the boy," they were saying in whispers. "His heart may not realize it, but his soul still grieves to this day."

But it wasn't so much that Yel hadn't started liking girls yet. In fact, part of the reason why he was stretching under the sun, clad in meaningful tattoos and glinting sunlight off of the first beads of sweat of the day, was because he knew that Abigail was around, and she was sure to be watching. The reason why he hadn't courted anyone yet was more complex than any simple answer. The reason was actually a mixture of different interrelated answers which weren't defined in any clear or concise manner and so were too complex for the simple human tongue or mind to grasp and express - or so Yel thought. Or maybe he was arrogant, that he deemed none of the girls in the Tribe as being worthy of his embrace, and he just didn't realize it. Yel hoped not. That would mean being an ass; and father always said to never be an ass.

And just as he finalized that thought, it appeared that his preparatory stretching rituals were finished. He glanced in the theorized direction - and he was right! Abigail was there, and she may or may not have been staring the whole time. She was some distance away, and the youth thought about saying a loud hello, but with Loghos and his love for peace and quiet, he just smiled and waved.

Yel'Shadar, son of Dug and Lowa, approached Abigail with a confident stride. As he closed the distance, he examined his fellow hunter from top to bottom three times: the first time about her gear, the second time about her body, and the third time also about her body but for unspeakable reasons. When he was near, he finally greeted her, his expression incredibly unsuspicious.

"Good morning, Abigail." The words rolled off his tongue smoothly enough, Yel decided. His voice was slightly coarse, middling in pitch but concise in the pragmatic manner of the hunters of the Tribe. "Sleep well? Ready for the hunt, I see." And he allowed his eyes up and down her body a fourth time.