[ All things considered, Peter isn't gone for very long. Most of his time is spent trying to track down something suitable. They hadn't made very much noise during their trek, but apparently it was enough to spook off the local wildlife. Peter ventures a little further than he likes before he's able to track down a rabbit, killing it with a well-aimed arrow.
He's bringing it back, along with the requested sticks – sturdy, but relatively light – and as he's returning to camp, he hears the noise of shuffling, hears unfamiliar voices. He pauses, tucking himself behind a tree as he listens. Two men, it sounds like, and not particularly happy, given the tones of their voices. At best, they're two wandering hunters. At worst, they're the ones that set the trap that captured Yan.
Peter knows which one he's likely to bet on, but he hopes he's wrong.
Still, if it's the latter, he doesn't hear the noise of struggle, and neither does he hear the familiar sounds of satisfaction at the end of a hunt – relieved laughter or boisterous crowing or the familiar patter of, "What are you going to do with your share?" It tells him they haven't found her yet, if that's what they're here for, and if they're making that much noise, they don't seem to be actively looking for her.
Good signs, he guesses. Though after a beat, he corrects himself by thinking, It's still not my problem.
His problem or not, though, he takes a gamble but moving into the clearing, dead rabbit in tow. Yan doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight, after a quick glance around. His posture is relaxed, easy, though it's a struggle to maintain that demeanor when he sees one of the men holding up his coat, praising it.
no subject
He's bringing it back, along with the requested sticks – sturdy, but relatively light – and as he's returning to camp, he hears the noise of shuffling, hears unfamiliar voices. He pauses, tucking himself behind a tree as he listens. Two men, it sounds like, and not particularly happy, given the tones of their voices. At best, they're two wandering hunters. At worst, they're the ones that set the trap that captured Yan.
Peter knows which one he's likely to bet on, but he hopes he's wrong.
Still, if it's the latter, he doesn't hear the noise of struggle, and neither does he hear the familiar sounds of satisfaction at the end of a hunt – relieved laughter or boisterous crowing or the familiar patter of, "What are you going to do with your share?" It tells him they haven't found her yet, if that's what they're here for, and if they're making that much noise, they don't seem to be actively looking for her.
Good signs, he guesses. Though after a beat, he corrects himself by thinking, It's still not my problem.
His problem or not, though, he takes a gamble but moving into the clearing, dead rabbit in tow. Yan doesn't seem to be anywhere in sight, after a quick glance around. His posture is relaxed, easy, though it's a struggle to maintain that demeanor when he sees one of the men holding up his coat, praising it.
He hates when people touch his stuff. ]
That would be mine.