Hey guys! Welcome back to Hear a Tale! Working full time is draining, so thank you for your patience :) That said, review time!

Thanks so much to CitrusChickadee for reviewing! Therion is both a master troll and a devastatingly easy victim of trolling XD And I'm glad you thought it was cute! If you couldn't tell, I'm very much a sucker for the found family trope :)

With that, on with the tale!

Relevant Events: None (references "Four Personalities" Tavern Banter)

47. Creation

Therion's eye narrowed as his dagger flicked deftly across the piece of wood in his hand, sending tiny shavings drifting down to the grass below. Every now and then, his gaze darted briefly back to his feline subject, who was currently lounging in the shade a ways away, either oblivious to or flat-out ignoring the thief's intense stare. Linde lifted her head and yawned, prompting Therion to take the tip of his blade and start carefully outlining fangs upon the face of the small snow leopard that was slowly emerging from the block of wood.

To any outside observer, he might have appeared entirely engrossed in his work, but he remained alert enough to not even flinch when a voice suddenly sounded behind him.

"Therion…what exactly art thou doing?"

"Practicing," he grunted, not raising his head, even as H'aanit came around to peer over his shoulder. He idly wondered if she was avoiding his blind spot out of courtesy or simple chance.

"Ah, yes…thou hadst mentioned that thou likest to trainen thy dexterity through woodcraft." The huntress tilted her head slightly. "With thy left hand, no less."

"That's the idea." Therion shrugged. "A lot of lost hands in my line of work. Have to make sure both are in perfect order…just in case."

"Mhm…and why hast thou chosen Linde as thy subject?"

"No reason, really. She just happened to be around." He squinted, carefully adding tiny, slitted pupils to the carved-on eyes. The overall figure was not as delicately formed as it could have been, had he been using proper tools, but given that he'd used nothing but a dagger not made for whittling, it was surprisingly good work. "If I'm going to carve something, I usually just pick the first thing I see and go from there. I'm doing this for the sake of training my hands, not for the art."

"I see…" H'aanit mused. After a beat of silence, she moved to sit at his side, unabashed in the way she openly studied his ongoing craft. "Even still…'tis a fine likeness already. Hast thou ever considered selling thine creations?"

"I've sold one or two on a whim," the thief replied. "Not really looking to become a woodcarver, though. No offense to your sense of honor, but I'm far more cut out for thievery."

H'aanit shook her head with a light sigh. "'Twas only a question. Though thou mightst simply finden that creating things bringeth more satisfaction than taking them."

"Satisfaction doesn't bring in the leaves." Therion flicked his wrist and sent a few splinters of wood flying, leaving the rough shape of a winding tail in their wake. "'Sides, I don't do this often enough to justify opening some kind of shop. Not to mention that, according to Tressa, I don't 'have the look of a trustworthy merchant. Or a trustworthy person in general.' Her words, not mine."

"Hm…couldst thou not remedy that flaw?"

"Meh, probably not. I am untrustworthy, after all."

H'aanit rolled her eyes, but did not protest.

"Anyway…" The thief paused to blow a bit of dust from the surface of the wood. "There any particular reason you're hanging around here? I mean sure, social butterfly that I am, I know I always exude an aura of friendliness, but I'm sure you've got better things to do than to watch me carve your cat." He paused again. "Out of wood, that is. Not like…well, you get what I mean."

"Truly, thy company is nothing short of delightful," H'aanit deadpanned, "but 'tis mere curiosity that keepeth me here. Thee and I doe not speaken often…perhaps 'twould not ben a bad thing to changen that."

"Huh. And here I thought you didn't associate with thieves."

The huntress shot him a dull look. "Thou knowest as well as I that we hath comen far beyond that point by now. We hath been traveling companions for some time now, yes?"

Therion shrugged. "True enough. Though I'm pretty sure you've noticed by now that I don't really do the whole…friendship thing. Only reason I got wrapped up in this whole group to begin with is because Alfyn refused to leave me alone. Probably would've ditched him the first chance I got if I'd known he'd end up dragging six other people along with us."

"Mhm…indeed," H'aanit mused. "And yet here thou art. And…thou certainly seemest no worse for wear. Perhaps this 'whole group' hath been a boon for thee after all."

"...I…guess it's useful to have extra hands on deck in battle, sometimes," the thief muttered, refusing to glance in her direction. "You know what? Sure, I appreciate the fact that I'm not dead, and the fact that maybe the rest of you may have had something to do with that at various points. That's all, though. I'm not about to trade flower crowns with anyone or suggest braiding each other's hair. All of this? It's purely business."

Therion had to resist the urge to groan out loud when H'aanit had the audacity to laugh at his perfectly reasonable statements.

"Alright," the huntress chuckled, "whatever thou sayest. I am sure thou art being entirely truthful. Teasing Tressa, drinking with Alfyn, making eyes at Primrose…'tis all completely business."

He gritted his teeth, dipping the lower part of his face into his scarf to hide the fact that his face was surely turning red. Swearing under his breath, he stood, brushing the wood shavings off of his clothes.

"Okay," he muttered into the violet fabric of his scarf, "that's enough whittling for today. Think I'm going to go practice throwing knives into things next."

H'aanit snorted. "Suiten thyself. Letten me know if thou ever feelest like 'doing the whole friendship thing.' I am starting to suspecten that thou art not nearly as unpleasant as thou predendest to ben."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever…" As he walked away grumbling, the thief tossed something over his shoulder, which the huntress deftly caught. He didn't look back to see her lightly run a finger over the wooden leopard's side, nor did he stick around to see the soft smile on her face as she took in the careful attention to detail that had clearly been put into the small creation. And he certainly did not go back to say that he might sort of actually hope a little bit that she liked the carving.

He hadn't lost that much of his pride quite yet.

See you guys next time for Tale 48: Childhood!