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Edge was a hunter at heart. She had little appetite for vegetation, living almost exclusively on the flesh of her kills. Greenery was consumed only when absolutely necessary, and usually with distaste, but her carnivorous ways didn't mean she only ate meat. Today, in fact, was about to be a rare exception to the norm.

Precipice picked her way absently through the grove at the northern border of the swamp. The air was still warm, but the changing season was evident in the color of the leaves, and at night cold winds hinted at a harsh winter. Yet while she was looking upwards, she wasn't paying attention to the weather. No she was looking to the trees, ripe with fruit, her own eyes gleaming. Suddenly she broke into a full out run, charging through the grove at full speed, heading straight for her chosen prey. Just a few lengths from its trunk, she launches herself into the air, hooves meeting treebark and scrabbling for purchase, using her momentum and whatever traction she could muster to push herself upwards as her jaws snapped out to close around a branch.

She hangs there for a split-second, hooves against bark, the branch clamped in her maw bending towards the ground, before it finally snaps near the trunck with a mighty crack, and both branch and kimeti drop back towards the swamp. The kimeti catches herself on her four hooves, shaking fallen leaves off her head, and the branch settles on the ground before her, its smaller limbs laden with ripe red apples.

Precipice's ears flick up and back at the presence of a stranger, golden eyes narrowing as she sizes up the approaching Kiokote. She's always liked her cousin species. They are fast, strong, and competitive, and this buck here appears to be a fine embodiment of those traits, at least on first glance. At his words her eyes gleam gleefully, perhaps pridefully, and her ears relax. She finds his accent rather charming, though she won't be admitting that.

"Well my neck is certainly not broken, nor will it ever be," she replies, her casual certainty accompanied by a lighthearted smirk, and then she sweeps her head down to take a bite out of one of her prizes.

Edge ignores his "is that so", feigning preoccupancy with her meal- apples are a seasonal treat and one of the few non-flesh things she does enjoy- but from the corner of her eye she is completely aware of the buck's actions. Crunching at the fruit, she is quite pleased when he doesn't ask to share her meal, as she had half-expected him to. No, instead he charges at the tree- she spares a moment to admire how a Kiokote's form is so built for speed- much like she had just done. Once more, she half-expects him to attempt, and probably fail, to repeat her trick, but again he surprises her quite pleasantly as he rears and strikes at his foe, a much more orthodox method she supposes. The tree shudders, the ground itself trembling slightly, and it is only then that she raises her head from the apple core, in recognition of his strength. Apples tumble to the ground, gold eyes meet gold, and as he speaks again, she grins back, her tail flicking in approval. "Indeed," and she returns to her own apples.

At his query, she pauses in her chewing, head raising slightly to glance at the Kiokote feasting beside her. "I came up with it myself a few seasons back," she replies nonchalantly, "I was bored and wanted apples, but lacked the strength to shake down the trees." She chews and swallows. "Where did you pick up that accent?"

She shoots him a look of feigned offense at her accent being called funny, but the playful gleam in her eyes and the quickness with which it fades makes it clear that it is in jest. She supposes he has a point with that statement, an accent is a matter of what one is used to, but she will still consider her own speech normal.

"And where exactly are you from, stranger?" she asks, her tone almost coy and the addition of the pronoun suggestive of an introduction. She steps forward to start on another apple, inadvertently bringing them closer together.

The Kiokote buck's tone waxes poetic, and she falls still for a moment, sensing a story. For all her bluntness and inability to handle long-windedness --there was a case where she simply walked away from someone who wouldn't get to his point-- the doe has a love of stories, one of the few things she shares with most of her kin. His words paint a scene clear as day, and she lets her imagination wander to it for a moment, nodding when he finishes. "I could run for miles here without stumbling over a root or vine either," she teases, "but that sounds like quite a place."

One ear flicks back at his introduction of himself, her eyes widening ever so slightly. She has never had a kin introduce himself to her like that before, and while unexpected, she finds the brief description of his dream quite poignant. It's not her style, and she has no plans of adopting it herself, but she likes it enough to offer it to this buck in turn. "I am Precipice, or Edge, whichever you care to call me," she pauses there, thinking, remembering. "In my dreams I walk the cliff's edge, even as it threatens to crumble beneath my hooves," but she says it without the slightest trace of fear. No, quite contrarily, her eyes are bright with remembered exhilaration.

She finds herself smiling at his compliment of her name, quite charmed by this Flyaway. This fact surprises her, its unusual that she's warmed up to him so quickly, but that thought doesn't linger. What happens happens, she worries little for the future. She lives in the moment, and at the moment she's having a damn good time.

His sudden request lights an adventurous spark in her eyes, a gleeful upturn of her mouth. "I have been once, but not far. I've only ever seen the borderlands..." and one of its strange occupants, but that was a longer story than needed to be told. The look in her eye and the eager flick of her tail was more than enough to show she had read the buck's train of thought, and she liked where it was going.

Edge meets his eyes, gold reflected in gold, his coy smile mirroring on her features, not giving an inch when he steps closer, unperturbed by their closeness. At his proposal, her eyes narrow with a devious gleam, her smile turning into a downright smirk. "I say...

You'll have to catch me first!" And she is off, bounding through the trees, heading northward, hooves effortlessly evading or crushing any opposing root or vine, rapidly putting distance between herself and Flyaway. Not that her momentary head start will delay him for long. She knows full well it is foolish for a kimeti to compete with a kiokote in terms of speed... in fact, she is counting on that.