Rhudd

The swathes of drygrass on the savanna bend rather easy with enough weight. But at the same time, all manners of beast or dragon could conceal themselves within it. Not a foot too heavy as to not expose oneself. It's a simple way to hide, but it requires a careful dance to take advantage.

Less obvious are the patterns scrawled into the grass. Unless someone bothered spreading their wings and taking towards the sky under the blistering sun, one would not see the strange sight at all. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of loops and turns. The snaking left behind a long creature in the grass. No rhyme or rhythm to the movement of the lines, but they all combine into a visual marvel from the air. The crisscrossing of the patterns suggest some regular use. Although, who uses these pathways is not easily apparent.

Only in the evening hours may you see something emerge from the maze of drygrass. A thin form poised with weapon in grip. It dips and twists through the grass without a sound. The figure often reappears then promptly dives back into the many pathways. After it hones on some animals in the distance, it makes its way steadily but stealthily towards them. The grass ever so slightly parts with its trajectory. It stops. The large beasts a few yards from it have lifted their heads from grazing, and their ears are raised in full alert. The hidden hunter settles lower to the ground in wait. After some time, the beasts grow content and go about their previous business.

A rustle erupts from a distance away. A serpentine form shoots by, reminiscent of an arrow. Bloodshot eyes and the metal of spearpoint flash in the remnants of the sun's light. Any squeals or braying are quickly quieted. The silhouette of Rhudd ringed with the dusk's orange glow raises up with her kill. She pulls a cherry from the pelted satchel tightly bound to her underbelly. She takes care to pull the stem off with teeth then presses the fruit between her claws. Rhudd tests the firmness of the cherry before squeezing the outer skin open. Deep red juice runs from the flesh of the fruit, and she turns the hand holding it around to coat all her claw tips. Rhudd's drenched talons score light through the hairs on the back of the animal. The fur parts between them stained with the pigment of the cherry. It is a distinct burgundy that reflects a purple sheen in the right light. Another mark to say it was her claim. Come the next morning, the hide would be handed off to her branch's Practitioner. The rest of the game would find a home on a drying rock coated in spices and salt for a week or so.

She never bothers wiping away the aftermath of a spear strike from her hands while on the hunt. So many of her own scales match the color of a successful pursuit. The mess can wait until she gets back home.