@sanguinesorcery said: There is a crash nearby. The tictap of dainty hooves against the ground, slow and methodical with the undertone of faint scraping. The solid sound of steps is enough to tell that there is some substantial weight behind this intruder.
A low rattling is among the sound of snuffling, a sharp exhale of breath rattling any loose grains of dirt and dust and sand. It is a moment more before the tusked snout is visible, scrounging about, before the beady eyes glint into view.
It pauses. It knows he is there. Slowly, the head begins to raise higher. Higher and higher, until the eyes are almost level with the tribesman's own in its alertness.
The snout sniffs twice. There is a low rattle from the hackles yet out of sight, a rumble in its throat. Experimental ... for now.
Sokka froze. Every instinct he had from growing up on the ice, surviving things that absolutely should have killed him, was screaming the very clear message—do not be brave about this. Brave got you gored. Brave got you turned into a cautionary tale. Brave got you killed.
His eyes flicked down to the food in his hands, and he swallowed, forcing his breathing to stay slow even as his pulse hammered in his ears. No sudden moves. No weapons. The thing wasn’t charging yet. That meant this was still a negotiation. And Sokka was very good at negotiations when the alternative was death.
“Okay,” he muttered under his breath, barely moving his lips. “You can have it. You can absolutely have it. I didn’t even want it that much.” He knew better than to run. Knew better than to flinch.
Carefully [painfully slowly] he lowered himself just enough to set the food down on the ground between them, nudging it forward with two fingers like it might explode. He eased his hand back, palms open, empty. “See? Nothing to fight over. No challenge here. Just a generous human making an offering to… whatever horrifying spirit pig thing you are.” His gaze stayed respectfully on the creature’s unblinking eyes. Animals notice stuff like that.
“Eat,” he whispered, his voice stayed steady through sheer force of will. “Please eat. Take it and go be… very far away. Preferably forever.” Every muscle stayed coiled and ready, his eyes flicking briefly to his boomerang resting on the log beside him while he calculated just how quickly he could grab it—but his choice was made. Food was replaceable. Limbs were not. And if sacrificing dinner meant he lived to complain about it later? Totally worth it.
