Fox Friend? Fox Friend. ((For Loki))

[alittlehinky]

Despite his leg braces and mild infirmity, Cricket is inclined to walk everywhere. He works on cars, he knows cars top-to-bottom, but he doesn't own one, and it's likely he never will. In the mountains, a bicycle is impractical, and so it's either walk or beg rides.

He prefers walking.

As such, he knows the trails around Blackwater Station as well as the Bondurants, or better. He can find the best fishing spots around the lake reliably, he knows where they keep stills, and he knows where they hunt and set snares. Today he's surprised to find evidence of someone else having been hunting on their land. Granted, boundaries up here are a little blurry. As long as the hunter isn't in danger of hurting someone or taking huge amounts of wild game, the Bondurants probably wouldn't care. In this case, though, there are a lot of traps. The kind with teeth, for catching bears and other fur animals. Forrest would not approve, not because he objects strongly to trapping, but because Jack or Howard or some customer crossing the ground drunk after closing could step into one and lose a foot.

Cricket's sprung and removed two, leaving them at the Station, and he's looking for more, as well as any sign of who might've set them. It's not his place to tell the hunter off, but Forrest sure as hell will.

It's the sounds of scuffling that lead him to the next trap, and he looks dismayed at once. This one has prey in it, and it's still alive and trying to escape. "Aw, fuck...you poor thing..."

Comments

[magpiemythos]

It wasn't the first time he'd slipped away. Loki had a distinct fascination with the mortal realm and the short-lived humans who populated it after all. And this area, mountainous and full of trees, creeks, secret places was close enough to settlements that he could both indulge his own wild nature as well as curiosity. So the Bondurant's land had been host to him before, but aside from the usual snares, easy enough to dodge, it was generally safe.

At least usually. Today was the exception to the rule, the one that found him trapped in the jaws of a particularly nasty trap, fuzzy tail boldly bottle-brushed as he twisted to try and get a better angle to see just what the damage was.

The size of the teeth meant it was likely down to his fae heritage that he hadn't lost the paw that had been snared, but until he got loose that wasn't a very comforting thought. Debating tracing where the chain was anchored to dig the whole thing loose, his ears pricked immediately at the sound of someone approaching, white belly low to the ground as he went still, luminous green gaze skipping towards the person who spoke up.

Not the trapper. He'd seen this one around before, and he seemed to be generally a good sort. But trapped as Loki was, he still bore wary watching.