He had never brooded so much in his life before. But really, was this not unexpected? Considering how he had just offered himself to the female...Hataki never expected such a situation to present itself to him like that.
Neither had he realized how much he would be affected by it, either.
But now he could sense that someone else was up and about. He was no longer the only one in the area.
Xochitl crept out into the darkness. It was night, the only real time she ever wandered out of her den. She didn't like leaving her den. In fact, she had been forced to leave her mother's home because as an adult, even, she hadn't wanted to leave.
Now the wild dog was forced to be on her own and it was terrifying her. Badly.
She absolutely hated to be out in the dark, alone, and it was so eerily quiet...
Since it was dark outside, Hataki couldn't see the other wild dog slowly creeping towards him. He heard her, though, and smelled her. She was clumsy. Stepping on lots of leaves and small branches; he could have heard her from miles away.
"I know you're there," he said softly, looking down at his paws to pretend that he didn't know exactly where she was. "You can come out. As long as you're not a rabbit, I don't plan on hurting you." Yet. If he could fight with someone, he would. He loved arguing.
Xochitl froze, frightened at the sudden voice that spoke out to her from the darkness in front of her. They...knew where she was? How? The poor female had no idea that her paws had been giving her position away long before she had decided to hunt.
She didn't say a word. She just padded forward a bit until her eyes could make out a sitting form a few feet away. The added rays from the moon and the stars helped her, but she couldn't see his coloring. It was a male wild dog, apparently. Xochitl stayed a distance away.
More rustling--this girl was not a good hunter--and then a moment passed before he saw her pop out of the grasses to stand a few feet away from him. She hadn't said a word, but just had shown herself to him. From what he could see, she was a dog like him. But his eyes were better, and the moon showed that there was a slight purple to her fur, which was grey like his.
"What're you doing out so late at night? Midnight snack?" he began the conversation, bored with nothing else better to do.
She was trembling. Now she was out in the dark and alone with a strange male that she had never seen or heard of before in her life. Who knew what he was up to? He must have been watching her...that was the only plausible reason her mind could come up with.
"Maybe," she replied, her voice in an almost-whisper. Xochitl didn't get out much, she didn't talk much. She didn't do much, really. This encounter was very different to what she was used to. And she wasn't used to much.
Hataki chuckled. "Maybe?" he repeated, eying her again from his position. "Maybe you were out hunting for a snack to gobble down before going to sleep for the night? Just maybe, huh." He shook his head at her.
"You're not the best hunter. I could hear you for a long time before I decided to say something. I figured it might be a lioness." He inwardly shuddered. He hated lions, ever since his very first encounter with one. "Then I would have had to turn nasty."
Xochitl gulped audibly. It unnerved her that she could not see his facial expression, to try and tell if he was being serious or just kidding. One one hand she was very thankful that she was not a lion. On the other, she wasn't so sure that she was thankful for this meeting, either.
"I have to eat sometime," she replied, again very softly. Almost so low he could barely hear her. "I haven't in the past week." She declined to explain.
"Why are you out here?"
Ah, the mousy girl had gotten bold. She had asked what he was doing. Even from the first few minutes of their meeting, Hataki could tell that she was skittish at best. A nervous little wreck of anxiety. He could smell her fear. And he didn't have the best noise, either.
"I'm out adventuring. Exploring at night is one of the best times, since less creatures are out to bother you. Except you, of course. Your paws were breaking my concentration."
He wanted to be mean. He really, really wanted to be mean. But a few clouds that had passed in front of the moon just cleared, and the extra light had illuminated her even more. And Hataki found her beautiful. And he wanted to push her away. He wanted to have nothing to do with her, even though he really just wanted to continue talking.
Xochitl didn't know of the dog's inward struggle with himself. She didn't know why he had been out here 'exploring on an adventure' as he claimed, when he was really trying to find himself in this moment of his life. She didn't know, and she probably would never know.
"I'm sorry," she apologized instead, bowing her head to the ground and shuffling a few steps farther away from him. If he was truly angry at her, he could charge her in an instant. She would have no choice but to try and flee, or surrender immediately. Xochitl wouldn't last a second in a fight.
She moved away from him; she was scared. Of course she was. He wasn't being the nicest wild dog and she was already on edge about their whole meeting.
He cursed in his head. There was nothing else for him to do but return to Kya and have pups. Even if..something was calling out to him to stay, to talk to this female more. It was driving him insane.
He had to get away.
"Good luck on your hunt," Hataki told her in a low, gruff voice. Then he turned and sprinted into the darkness behind him, not caring where he was going, as long as it was away from her.
Just like that, he was gone. Xochitl was so confused, and frightened that he had really only tricked her. She thought he had rushed away only to turn around and hide in a bush nearby, waiting to pounce her when she let her guard down.
Terrified and paranoid even more, now, she tucked her tail between her legs and lowered her ears, tempted to let a little whine out in her fear. But she didn't.
Instead she retreated back to her den, stomach growling at her angrily. She would try hunting again tomorrow. Maybe this was a sign that she needed to try again in the daylight, when she could see better.
