(Private) Crossed Trails

[Tristan Hardt]

There are eyes everywhere. Human. Animal. Spirit. In any direction, one or a thousand eyes can be watching, but they don't always belong to the same host. One pair sees. Another misses. Still another sees something altogether different in the same direction. Tristan has come to rely on what other eyes have seen - or claim to have seen. And one pair of eyes described something amiss; an unusual shape lurking near a creek. Something monstrous and alien. This pair of eyes that claims to have seen? They belong to a human.

Humans lie. They concoct stories for attention. They even genuinely misinterpret what their eyes see, giving the closest approximation their minds can come up with.

But despite all this, crouching low over the creek-bed, Tristan searches. For what? For anything. For something amiss. Strange footprints, blood, discarded belongings - anything to give credence to the story he'd been told. One knee find careless purchase on wet ground, soaking through an already tarnished uniform, and Tristan curses under his breath. "Shit."This is probably a waste of time. He knows it. But if there is something out there, something that does not belong, and he lets it go unchecked...

Well, that just isn't an option.

This place certainly doesn't feel like a locus. If something has pierced through the gauntlet here, it isn't searching for a home. Perhaps it's running from something. Instinctively, Tristan smells the air. Only a sour, sulfurous odor from the creek-bed assails his Hishu nostrils.

[Hector]

Hector has been following the creek bed, too.

Curiosity. Suspicion. The need to hunt. The chance to explore a less urban setting. All these things tugged at the raggedy man in his tattered clothes, drove him onward. He was moving quickly, at a pace somewhere between a lope and a jog; sometimes he bent and scrabbled at the damp earth with his dirty fingers; sometimes his footing slipped and he clattered and banged down into the creek proper.

Poor hunting technique.

Unless you wanted your prey to know. Unless you wanted to draw them to you, recklessly, so you could challenge yourself. Learn. Adapt.

Hector was all of that, too.

And now Hector finds another of the People: a human form he does not yet recognise. Uncertain and, as yet, unable to make out any brands or scars, the Cahalith simply... stands. And watches without making a sound. While he waits, he scans the limited horizon, expecting company but finding none.

What is this?

[Tristan Hardt]

Nothing. Nothing useful in the smells and stinks of nature. Tristan stands again, futilely attempting to brush the mud and gunk from his knee. It would be better to search in the skin of a wolf. And, yet, he'd rather not become the new story of a beast roaming the creek bed. He takes a moment to stretch his back - youth being nothing but a pleasant memory - and sets off along the creek.

Within a few moments, he sights another in his path. A ways down. Just standing and watching. Another on a hunt? Another of the People? Tristan can't be sure. Not from this distance. He sees no reason to hesitate - no reason not to identify this pair of eyes. Watching him.

"You lost?" he asks, with all the sympathy of a bear roused from its sleep. His voice carries a challenge: what are you doing between me and my prey? Whoever the fuck this drifter is, Tristan is ready for anything. He doesn't close the distance between them. He simply waits, arms crossed. If this stranger cares to make his voice heard, Tristan might just relax a little. He, himself, may be the stranger in this territory, but nothing stands to gain from being timid. He's been hunting too long to trot up to strangers with his 'tail wagging'.

[Hector]

"No. You?"

Hector replies, speaking loud enough for his voice to carry across the distance between them. He takes a few steps forward and inhales deeply, loudly.

"You seem a little alone. You got buddies around here?" Hector asks while he - deliberately - looks around. To an Uratha it would be clear what he is talking about.

"This here creek got my eye. I reckons thats the same with you, right?"

[Tristan Hardt]

Tristan doesn't follow up with another retort. This guy doesn't back down Tristan's challenge, so pushing further wouldn't be wise. He watches as the man closes the gap a little. The movement doesn't seem like a threat. Though the loaded question summons a snort. A frown. This guy knows too much to be one of the Herd.

"No. And no: I'm not here to cause trouble." He glances around as well, indicating the surroundings by doing so. "If I'm on someone else's property, say so."

Tristan finally uncrosses his arms. He nods once. "Following up on a tip. Some lady at the gas station. Over at [street name and street name]. She says she saw something strange out here." He pauses. Spits on the ground. "Coincidence?"

[Hector]

"Vacant domain, friend."

Hector eases up slightly.

"See. Now. I know nothing about that. The lady, I mean. No. I was just passing through and got the itch. Something don't feel right and I can't put my finger on it. Being a concerned citizen I just had to look into it. Call it gut. Call it, you know, instinct for trouble. Hell! Sometimes I just got the need to practice my old hunting skills for a while."

His voice stiffened.

"If there is something strange and noteworthy going on up this creek, I will find it."

He inhaled loudly again, seeking out the strangers scent. An ordinary human would have been disconcerted, perhaps misconstruing the action as the sign of drug addiction or disease. An Uratha would know differently. They all smelled of wolf.

[Tristan Hardt]

A curt nod. It could be deception; this vagrant might be trying to lower Tristan's guard. Could be. But probably isn't. If things do turn to violence, well... there is wisdom to be gained from that.

"What do you call yourself, friend?" Not the most friendly use of the word 'friend'. But then Tristan isn't the most friendly of People. One hand strays lazily to his belt. Opposite from the side of his holster.

"Concerned citizen, huh? Sure, I'll bite." He huffs - an uncommitted substitute for a real laugh. He can't really tell if it was a cheesy line or not. Himself being a uniformed officer and all.

Tristan pauses, watching as the stranger takes a deep whiff. A normal human would have little to gain from picking up another's scent. Which either makes the man bat-shit-crazy or, more likely, Uratha. After giving the man a moment to process, he speaks again.

"Can't say I'm a hunter, myself. Not really. I ask questions, carry a weapon, and hope that authority is enough to settle things." He eyes the creek bed once more. "Love to bring a canine out here, though. Let him do the tracking for me." He huffs again, drawing the corner of his mouth back into a half-assed smile. "Cuz if I have to track it, this nose isn't gonna do it for me."

He'd likely have to come back again, to the same spot, in the middle of the night. Fewer people out to catch a glimpse of a wolf on a trail.

"So if you're looking for something too... how are you gonna find it?" If this guy has something to bring to the table,Tristan won't turn away help.

[Hector]

Hector brightened. Disturbingly so. From suspicion to best buddy in the blink of an eye. And that smile.

"Oh you can call me Hector. Everyone else does. So I guess I'm a Hector. Its a name. It will serve. What is your name, my friend?"

He moves forward to join Tristan; there is a bounce in his step that wasn't there before.

"Damn straight. This really would be good ground to have a canine nose around. I feel you. With this nose I can't smell past my own sweat. Or farts. Bad gas lately. Guess my supplies must be going off. Anyway... What do I bring? Two arms. Two legs. A pair of lungs and a whole lot of screaming. Plus I have eyes that see. And well... if push comes to shove. I can always come back with a... Canine."

[Tristan Hardt]

"Tristan." he says, a little surprised at the flipping of switches. Hell of an intensity coming off this one, that's for sure.

The uniformed man seems to consider for a moment, setting his jaw and chewing his tongue a bit. He spits on the ground again. "Think that's wise? I'm all for taking the easy road. Just don't want to draw the wrong kind of attention. I'll leave the choice to you. Friend." Truth be told, he could work around some someone seeing him with a big, scary-looking 'dog'. Wouldn't be the first time someone the distinction wasn't made. Hell. Twenty years ago and he can still feel the wolf leaping onto his chest and tearing his flesh open. All because someone thought a police dog had gotten loose.

[Hector]

Hector's eyes narrow again, but this time he is not focussing on Tristan. The Cahalith is staring at the trail and the creek.

"Lets try the easy way for now. Just the two of us. I haven't seen anyone else out this way myself, so I reckon we could do alright. If nothing else we can get a feel for the trail, right? I doubt its going to go anywhere soon. If we need to, we can come back later."

He lets his words linger in the air. They could, after all, be taken many ways. But as yet, Hector does not know this "Tristan" and he still finds it a little strange that the city can be so empty of Uratha.

"Shall we keep looking? What you say?"