▹▹▹▹ Perhaps Atticus had been quiet as of late- yet perhaps anyone that had gotten a glimpse of him knew that this was no uncommon occurrence. He had very well enjoyed the time he had spent in the Ascendants so far, and perhaps even the opportunity to just stop and live for once in his life. He had always been a warrior, though some might argue he was not much older than the average warrior, he, unlike many others, had been born and bred into this life. He had earned his first scars at six months, and while his battles had not stopped, the scars had with the knowledge of survival and how to protect himself. Sometimes he lingered on these thoughts, an odd sense of nostalgia for the places he had gone and seen. He would not have called his people a tribe, but much the same they were all (mostly) loyal to one another; the vast majority of them warriors. Perhaps the next closest comparison, if one were to go off the stereotypes, was to call himself a Viking or a Dane; but yet even this was not a complete cookie-cutter sentiment. Yet seeing this place at times he couldn't help but consider back to his own past. Perhaps that was the funny thing about growing older (not that he could be called 'old'), or meeting other people. You were brought to objectively assess and assimilate to a different type of people.

He drew himself up to his paws with these idle thoughts as he began to step towards the observatory, the warmer afternoon sun dappling against his dark pelt. He had been idle today and it was beginning to grate at him. While he could comfortably sit and stare off at nothing with little complaint, it was one thing to do it intentionally for no purpose, and another to do it intentionally for a purpose. Like hunting. So far, he had settled himself quite comfortably into the idea that he could provide a use for these people. Hunting large prey was one thing, of course, but helping to supply others- their allies, children, whoever it may be- was one of those fulfilling tasks to know that you could truly have an impact on something. Now, of course, was when Atticus was far too deep into his own thoughts, idly dismissing them with a flick of an ear as he made his way towards their food stores to see what was available. Of course, the seasons somewhat limited what was available, but he figured that he could at least try to provide some variety to what was already present in camp. Heck, maybe he'd go berry picking.

Content with his assessment, he paused to gather a basket and some cloth, figuring he'd do a bit of hunting and foraging at the same time and make it easier on himself before he began to stride his way deeper into the territory, away from the hustle and bustle of the camp to where more prey were likely to be found among the forest and by the lake. He began by gathering acorns first, his gaze idly scanning the area for any signs of prey as he did so; unhurried, keeping his scent to a minimum as much as he could, quietly picking through the forest floor as he stooped low for some mushrooms, his ears flickering at any little scuttle of movement. In time, of course, he had set his basket down with care upon a flat rock to retun to, now hiding himself in the underbrush to watch a nervous little bunny sniffing around the area, no doubt picking up traces of him and completley unaware that he was still so very  close by.

//Ack sorry wasn't sure how to start this

[member=2568]agathe.[/member]

▹▹▹▹ //oof sorrythis is so late man this week's been crazy
Atticus took a breath in, starting to shift his body forward to make his strike, a paw barely beginning to move to help launch him towards the small bit of prey, when his body stopped and froze at the sound of something coming from his side. His gaze alone slowly shifted to see what was approaching, but he nearly had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the familiar flash of a red cloak. The rabbit, who was faintly distracted by the inclination of Kit's presence, had no chance against the silently-stalking Agathe, even with her bright red beacon of a cloak. Instead, he watched idly, sinking back down onto his belly as the Astral Serpah lept and quickly made the kill her own. Yet, he did not make himself known, quietly sitting and staring at the girl in front of him and the kill that was supposed to have been his. Of course, he was hardly making an attempt, anymore, to hide himself, so as her voice turned to address him, he sighed softly and began to rise up to his full height, stepping out from the underbush, though stepping around her instead to go fetch his basket from earlier.

"We will call it compensation for the moose," he answered softly, his low voice rumbling for a moment as he finally turned and took a step towards her, sitting himself back on his haunches as he glanced about the area. He, of course, had long before noted Agathe's frown at his appearance, simply keeping his gaze off of her as he found interest in something else instead- of course, it was a faked interest. There was little around to catch his eye in the present moment other than the smell of blood from a fresh kill. "You need something more than a rabbit," he said- and he was very aware he was noting the obvious. "I was going to be taking that," he idly gestured a paw at the rabbit beneath her feet, "back to camp." He paused, biting back a sarcastic comment that dared to threaten at his lips, controlling himself for a moment as he shook his head softly. "What else suits you? Fish, more rabbits, something else?" the question was idle. For one thing, he doubted Agathe would so much as even allow the prospect of him hunting for her in any capacity, but he truly had no qualms with it either. A rabbit was a rabbit, and there would always be more prey.