Other hunters are about-as does the grieving and the prey.

A small clearing, a spot where the trees happened to have not yet grown into. In my state, it might have held little of interest to me-flowers and grasses being of no particular use to me. However, it wasn't purely empty, with two figures in the middle of it-and they did have something I wanted badly. Far as I could tell, they were related to centaurs-save a more slight build and antlers that put them in the 'deer-taur' category. The part that had lead me to devour anything of interest practically salivated at the sight-gears already turning in my minds, thinking over other potential uses for a human upper half and the exotic spine structure they need to support it. Maybe becoming a faux-alraune? Give myself a somewhat more disarming form when interacting with others? Use normal human-designed gear without sacrificing my monstrous might?

One was lying down on the ground-completely on both of her sides, while the other appeared to be crouched over her. Something about the situation struck me as wrong-enough to snap me out of my current state as I was **** to try and analyze my own feelings. What were they doing? Why weren't they running like everyone else? Were they so absorbed in something important that they didn't notice-or didn't care? My motions towards the pair are a lot more tentative and slow, observing their reaction. Once I got close enough, I realized why. The smaller one who wasn't lying down-crying her eyes out. A quick look over with the sight that can give me background information-yep. Mother and daughter, former of which was dead. Lucky bolt to the heart.

Of course, where there are bolts, there must be crossbowmen-who soon reveal themselves from the tree. Well, one crossbowmen, and several spearmen, though all on horseback. As well as a couple dogs that growled threateningly at my approach, crawling on past the taur so deep in their grief that the rest of the world seemed to shut off for her. While my divine gift may have put humans at ease, their beasts are not so gifted-and the hunting party has some trouble keeping their mounts under control at my approach. I imagine it was like what I felt when the kitsune was near, the aura of power informing them how far out of their league they were in-and the danger entailed.

"Out for a trip yourself? Can't blame you-but have to say-those are mine." The only one ranged said, casually cheerful as he began to reload another quarrel in, a ratcheting noise as he wound the thing. I barely deemed his speech worthy any words of my own-instead, just directing my attentions to tearing a tree out of the ground by the roots-combined with letting forth a gutteral utterance of a single word. "MINE." . The noble's guards were, well, merely put on guard, spears raised in my direction. The animals, on the other hand, didn't have the same kind of resolve-and sprinted off against their rider's protest. I may not be a paragon of morality, but there is a certain little rush of a good deed done, and protecting the seemingly innocent was an easy clear-cut one, even if others might not agree on what's innocent.