She hears the man coming before she sees him. It is uniquely clumsy behavior for a potential quarry, and for a moment she is annoyed at the carelessness of it. And then she decides that the uniqueness has its own merit. This could be a new sort of chase.
An arc of her arm summons her longbow; she leans against the high bank of the pool, holding it. No arrows, though: the Huntress is unconcerned by the possibility (the impossibly slim possibility, in her mind) that the man could be any kind of threat.
When she sees the man's body appear between the trees, she lets herself smile: he is...interesting, somehow, in a way she can't quite place. Interesting is enough, though, to make him worth her time.
"You are either brave or foolish, mortal." Her tone is casual and even, and pleased. She makes no particular effort to raise her voice, though: it matters little one way or the other whether the man hears her.
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An arc of her arm summons her longbow; she leans against the high bank of the pool, holding it. No arrows, though: the Huntress is unconcerned by the possibility (the impossibly slim possibility, in her mind) that the man could be any kind of threat.
When she sees the man's body appear between the trees, she lets herself smile: he is...interesting, somehow, in a way she can't quite place. Interesting is enough, though, to make him worth her time.
"You are either brave or foolish, mortal." Her tone is casual and even, and pleased. She makes no particular effort to raise her voice, though: it matters little one way or the other whether the man hears her.