With some sadness, Ealhild had realized that she and the Stormborn needed some time apart. The parts of it she normally frequented, anyway. She had the urge to distance herself from her father's den, had no desire to walk the main spaces of the pride. She declined to stalk the pride as other lionesses, leaping at the chance to fight any and all comers; just as she had no desire to be among those who forgot sisterhood and scoffed at their fellows only seeking to prove their place. Eal hadn't decided where she stood on that issue just yet. There were bigger concerns. The sort of concerns that visited her dreams, glaring at her from dead grey eyes and ringing in the dry voice of a disappointed god.
She needed time away from those, too, but there was no running from her own head.
Instead, the lioness chose to take one of the "freedoms" offered to her as a freeborn. Her paws followed the river that ran through the grounds, the only staple of the pride that she couldn't pull herself away from. And once she had traced those swollen banks out to on the borders, hopefully out of sight of prying eyes, Eal slipped into a hunting stance. Hunting was calm, almost automatic. Something she had done so often over the years that it was nearly mindless. It had nothing to do with right or wrong, male or female. She was fairly certain that every lion, everywhere, learned to hunt at some point in their lives. They had to eat, didn't they? How could there be anything "wrong" about that?
It was kind of a relief to lose herself to it. Lifting her muzzle to the air and sniffing out the antelope downstream was the work of a moment. Stealing across the damp earth until she was in sight of the creature, foolish and alone, was reflex. By the time Ealhild lowered her body to the ground, muscles tensing and claws bared, she was functioning almost entirely on blessed instinct. Pink tongue curling over snarling fangs, she prepared to make her move...
Keantha