Ranyshia had found himself walking further and further from the pridal borders since his encounter with the viking female, Rayn. He had found her intriguing and would be lying if he had not hoped to encounter her again at the pride’s edge, but he had had no such luck so far. It was disappointing, but the male tried to shrug it off. He was not one for making firm connections. He was fine on his own. But still, his gaze scanned the horizon for the familiar female form, as he kept himself busy cleaning down the pelts for the drums. It was the noise of paws that caught his attention and drew his gaze once more to the horizon, but the female form that appeared there was certainly not the female he had encountered earlier. 
The fire and charcoal pelted female froze at the sight of the male, and both regarded each other with a wary sense of caution, however Ranyshia’s gaze drifted back down to this work and set about ignoring her. She wasn’t the one he was after, therefore he had no reason to extend the curtesy of conversation to her. Not that he would be rude, if she chose to speak to him, but it was clear he would not make the first sound.
Kiunguza was relieved that the male did not seem aggressive but she was confused at his easy dismissal of her. The firekin had been very much about community, and she had known many of the members by sight and by name, even if she did not consider them her friends. It was simply the way it was. They were all of the same blood, and many of them were family to her. She found it a bit insulting to be dismissed so readily.
“Hello,” she greeted, her tone firm.
Ranyshia’s eyes flicked up from the pelts. “Hello,” he responded, his tone neither friendly nor rude. Once again he returned to his pelts.
Kiunguza huffed, and padded closer to him. Wow, he was quite the conversationalist, she thought to herself with a heavy dose of sarcasm even though the male could not hear the scathing thought. “What are you doing?” She asked instead of voicing her annoyance at his conversation skills.
“I am cleaning pelts,” he responded.
“Well you’re ruining them,” she said. “You’re scraping all of the warmth out of the skins.” He was removing the fur portion, leaving only the leather-like material beneath.
“It is not warmth I am using them for,” he responded, insulted that she would say he was ruining them, “this is my craft. I know what I am doing.” How rude!
“Really?” She asked sceptically, her tone reflecting her doubt. “What other use is there for pelts if not for warmth or decoration?” She had rarely used pelts for warmth in her home, except for sickly and only in the night, but many had worn them as trophies of war or fights.
“I am making drums.” His tone was distinctively unfriendly now. “You are on the border of the Nchi, a pride of musicians.” He really wanted to add something about them possessing a fierce army, but she looked too muscular to be scared away simply by the mention of a fight. She would probably enjoy it. What was with all these muscular females passing nearby?
“Drums?” She scoffed. “How useless. You are wasting those pelts. They could serve better purposes!” She was decidedly unimpressed with this male. He was wasting precious resources and just generally being a fool.
He scowled. “Excuse me? How dare you say I am wasting these pelts? This is our pride’s livelihood. Just because you do not have the social skills to reside in a pride, does not mean that you can come in here and criticise mine.” It was clear she was a rogue, because he did not recognise her from the nearby prides, and she was definitely not a member of the Nchi.
Well, that hurt more than it should have, his jab about the prides. It had been her choice to leave her birth pride, though her father’s arrogance had forced her paw at it, but still. She had dishonoured herself, and brought shame to her father with the same move. She was not a huge believer in her honour, but that comment still stung a bit. She snarled, her eyes blazing with the fire of her kin. “You know nothing about me. How dare you insult me as such?”
It was then that Ranyshia realised that she was a lot more muscular than he was, and he was at a distinct disadvantage of being on the ground while she stood over him. He was not a fighter, but she clearly appeared to be. Did he really want to annoy a female who could quite easily kick his butt, and possibly do quite significant damage to him? No. It was time for a tactical retreat, and he could only hope her pride had not been wounded so much as to not allow the retreat.
“I apologise. It seems I spoke out of turn,” he said, his tone returning to neither friendly nor unfriendly, trying to reclaim some of their earlier calmness and disinterest in one another.
It took a lot of Kiunguza to stifle the urge to attack the male, but she did. She didn’t want to enrage an entire pride; that would just be too much hassle, and she was still a former firekin. She didn’t want to bring dishonour to her pride by spreading that the firekin attacked people dishonourably. She snarled at him, but tried to relax her posture.
“Forgiven,” she said shortly. “I believe it is time for me to make my departure. I will leave you to your crafts.” The way she said craft still implied a heavy disbelief that he was actually doing good as he ruined the pelt, but the rest of her words were said with no malicious intent behind them.
Ranyshia bristled slightly, but inclined his head to the female, grateful for her own tactical retreat. “Farewell,” he responded stiffly, returning his gaze to the pelts but keeping his peripheral vision on her as she departed, making sure she did, in fact, leave, and was not merely planning an ambush. It took him a while after she disappeared over the horizon to relax, and as he did, he took to his work in earnest, grateful for the silence and that the female he had met days ago had been driven from his thoughts. For now.
-fin-