...And The Moon Was Hungry | Bonfire

[THEM]

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"]He isn't one to stray this far from town so late into the evening, especially without an accompanying patrol - Kaz wouldn't risk getting caught alone if something were to go south, should he happen to wander into the wrong place at the wrong time. But the scent of smoke that drifts through the crisp air makes his ears flatten and his interest pique, distant but constant enough that he recognizes it as more than just the remnants of a fireplace burning in the village. He squints, suspicious, when he spots the glint of orange light dancing on the horizon. Of course, his mind screams arson, an attack, but he figures his tendency towards overreaction is coming into play when he remembers that a number of clans are too preoccupied with winter festivities - or the martial law imparted by takeover - to attempt a move so brash.

He forces the stiffness out of his shoulders, remembers where he is, who he's with. Things aren't as precarious here - he's safer between these borders, as far as he's ever been concerned. Still. He just wants to be certain.

When Kaz is close enough, paws cold and expression soured by the icy wind, he recognizes Snarl attending to a tall flame. Immediately, he relaxes; he recognizes the hyena from his previous training session, as well as the serval at her side. The looming barn casts a shadow over the little clearing, and as he trots between the ruts in the dirt path where truck tires once carved muddy valleys, Kazuhira tips his chin in greeting. He's still reserved, polite in that stilted manner that he'd come to embody in his past few weeks here, but the sight of drinks and friendly faces (whom, he should note, did well to impress him during his surprise drill) takes the edge away from his normally hard expression.

(He doesn't mean to be so harsh. Really, he'd like to think himself nicer than that, but when the work called for it - and Tanglewood, so far, was a mountain of work he'd yet to tackle - he forced himself to differentiate from the friendly face he projected in a more intimate setting.)

(In the grand scheme of earned respect, though, he likes what he's seeing from these two so far. So, he smiles.)

"Hell of a campfire," Kazuhira hums, not waiting for an invitation before he reaches for the bottle in Snarl's paws. In the dim evening light he'd allowed his shades to slip down the length of his muzzle, but the sharp contrast of the firelight against the shadows makes him subconsciously adjust the sunglasses on his nose. A sip from the bottle, and he winces. It's strong - good. "S'Nice to see you two. It's a good night for this sort of thing, hm?"