<div class="floatright">(https://i.postimg.cc/GmVMTHJ3/eef6ec6b38c38ad3b97da9b5de81db90-2.png)</div>Pozvhim trails along quietly after Nug, comfortable with her silence, tasting the slightly musky scent of the kobold leading him in the air, and inwardly happy that he guessed her mood. The feeling is reinforced when her firm grip closes on his own slender hand in the blackness, and she helps to guide him. The simple gesture warms him inwardly. He imagines many kobolds in the tribe just feel he’s not a very good kobold, without thinking about why, but the huntress has him figured out pretty well, he thinks.<br/><br/>It’s a pleasant feeling, and Nug tugging him along lets him move faster than he usually would with a hand to the wall. He closes his eyes to the darkness, and after a moment lets his trailing hand drop from the nearby tunnel wall, just trying to feel where Nug is taking him.<br/><br/>If he trips, well, it would hardly surprise anyone, but it’s somehow thrilling to be pulled along blindly through the twisting tunnels. Pozhvim compares the changing smells and the turns they’re taking to the mental map he’s painstakingly assembled, and decides they’re heading towards one of the less-used exits.<br/><br/>At the first taste on the air currents of the outside, with its rich green smells and more turbulent wind, he opens his eyes, pupils dilating suddenly to adjust for the silvery moonlight that strikes shifting opal glitter on Nug’s scales. The sight stirs ticklish pleasure in his pouch, and he feels himself firming slightly. For a moment, Pozhvim glances away, trying to think of other things, because he won’t be able to run so well if he’s too aroused.<br/><br/>After all, he knows she doesn’t want a boring hunt.<br/><br/>Just in case, Pozhvim slides his hands along the sling wrapped around his waist, cups the pouch holding the stones for it, and flexes his tail to brush the blade at its tip along the ground. They might not be the only things out here, and that makes these little trysts simultaneously more dangerous and more exciting.<br/><br/>That little ticklish sensation between Pozhvim's thighs tightens with a fluttery feeling as she calls him "Bunny," and he exhales slowly, then breathes in deep, trying to calm himself and think. She doesn’t want boring, so…<br/><br/>“Thirty,” he breathes, then bolts past her and out of the little patch of brush which obscures the tunnel mouth.<br/><br/>At first, Pozhvim sprints as only a kobold can, claws digging into the loamy soil as he hurtles through the grass, head down and tail out straight behind him for balance. A twenty count won’t quite get him to the Shrike's banks, but with thirty he still might have a decent lead when he reaches the river. For the moment he’s focusing on distance, not even trying to evade her tracking abilities. He mulls over what he remembers of the river’s edge, changing direction slightly as he thinks.<br/><br/>Nug is sneakier than he is…But not much. She’s far, far better at tracking, though. Really, she taught Pozhvim most of what little he knows.<br/><br/><em>So what irritates her when she loses her prey?</em><br/><br/>Pozhvim spots the edge of the river. She’ll be after him by now. She'll have probably guessed he went straight to the river to break his scent. She might sprint just as fast as he did instead of worrying about tracking. He doesn’t dive in, but goes into the water as smoothly as he can and lets the flow carry him for another twenty count before…<em>Yes</em>, the hanging branch he remembers is still here. That will help make things interesting.<br/><br/>He pulls himself up, shaking water off quickly before padding along the branch, jumping to another, and barely managing to catch himself from falling off of a third. Pozhvim makes a good fifty feet among the leaves before dropping back down onto a rocky patch which will hopefully hide his footprints for a little distance.<br/><br/>On one level, Pozhvim’s confident that she will find him…And he<em>does</em>want to be found. He’s never quite sure what she’ll do when she catches him, but she’s never been truly cruel, unlike many members of the tribe when he disappoints them.<br/><br/>No, it’s really quite the opposite of cruelty, even though sometimes it hurts in amazing ways. She's always careful not to truly injure him. He's not too afraid of getting caught...And yet, he doesn’t want to disappoint her. She wants a non-boring hunt, and he wants to do his best, so on another level he wants to make it as hard for her to catch him as possible.<br/><br/>Still, he can't help himself. He’s curious as to just how effective his tricks will be. Pozhvim clambers up another tree, using low-hanging branches instead of sinking his claws into the bark, and doing his best not to disturb them. He shifts over a few more trees, crossing from limb to limb, before descending once more…Slowly and as sneakily as he can, doubling back to overlook the river and watch his own path, making his course something of a spiral that curves in on itself.<br/><br/>His count must be nearly a hundred now, though Pozhvim thinks he must’ve lost his place once or twice when he nearly missed jumping from one branch to another. He slowly stretches out beneath a bush on his belly, trying to ignore the tingly pressure and friction of the ground against his slightly swollen genitals.<br/><br/>Pozhvim watches the branch hanging out over the river, breathing as shallowly as he can, a little fearful and a little aroused…<br/><br/>…And very, very much enjoying the game.