Lovely lovely lovey. While not normally a trait considered stereotypical for his kind, the silent watcher couldn't help but remain motionless in the long sand colored grass, his bright eyes following the movements of the youngsters playing along the dunes. The small group had entered his territory hours ago, not that they would be aware of it. Unlike other skinwalkers, Seethe was neither a buffoon, nor so drawn into his bloodlust that he lost all sense of reason. Marking this territory as his would surely scare away all but the hardiest, and he was unlikely to ever target someone capable of fighting back.
That, after all, was not only stupid (he could get injured in a fight!) but useless. Even when he won (for there was no doubt of that inevitable outcome) eating his opponent would hardly regain his strength... he would have to hunt again. Added to it the inherent risk to his body, and you got what could be considered a 'nice' skinwalker attitude of avoiding trouble.
Right. And pigs flew.
No mare, youngster, or aged soquili was safe. Particularly young impressionable foals. When properly handled, the meat of a youngster's neck, shoulder, and haunches carried a certain spice to it that could only be attributed to their vast imaginations being kicked into high gear through fear. Not the stark terror that made them immovable, but the terrified need to escape that really got his blood going. that was Seethe's choice of prey, and he had absolutely no qualms with staking out potential victims for the better part of the day before making his move. Knowing them, even from this distance, made manipulating them so much easier when the time came...
