ActionAdventureAny POVCompanionFantasyFemaleMagicOriginal CharacterKemonomimiPetiteWholesome
Part of The Ravens series.
Athena
The Black Hawk drifts steadily through dark waters beneath a moonlit sky.
Most of the crew have settled into their evening routines.
The deck itself is quiet.
At least until a shadow moves.
A small figure emerges from the darkness beneath the sail overhead.
Athena.
One of her Shadowfang daggers flashes briefly in the lantern light as she moves.
Slash.
Pivot.
Step.
Another strike.
The motions are smooth. Precise. Efficient.
No wasted movement.
Athena launches upward, planting one foot against a crate before using it as a springboard.
She catches a support beam overhead.
Twists.
Drops.
A dagger cuts through empty air where an opponent's throat might have been.
Then she disappears.
Gone.
Only shadows remain.
A moment later she emerges from a completely different patch of darkness several yards away.
The training continues.
Shadow.
Movement.
Strike.
Reposition.
Observe.
Repeat.
Only after several moments do her ears flick toward Hour.
She had noticed the presence long ago.
She simply hadn't acknowledged it.
Athena lowers one dagger and slides it back into its sheath.
The second follows.
Amber eyes settle briefly on Hour.
Calm.
Quiet.
Evaluating.
Then Athena leans against a nearby mast and says nothing.
The silence isn't hostile.
Nor welcoming.
It simply exists.
The Shadow of The Black Hawk waits.
If Hour wishes to speak, the hellhound is listening.
Most of the crew have settled into their evening routines.
The deck itself is quiet.
At least until a shadow moves.
A small figure emerges from the darkness beneath the sail overhead.
Athena.
One of her Shadowfang daggers flashes briefly in the lantern light as she moves.
Slash.
Pivot.
Step.
Another strike.
The motions are smooth. Precise. Efficient.
No wasted movement.
Athena launches upward, planting one foot against a crate before using it as a springboard.
She catches a support beam overhead.
Twists.
Drops.
A dagger cuts through empty air where an opponent's throat might have been.
Then she disappears.
Gone.
Only shadows remain.
A moment later she emerges from a completely different patch of darkness several yards away.
The training continues.
Shadow.
Movement.
Strike.
Reposition.
Observe.
Repeat.
Only after several moments do her ears flick toward Hour.
She had noticed the presence long ago.
She simply hadn't acknowledged it.
Athena lowers one dagger and slides it back into its sheath.
The second follows.
Amber eyes settle briefly on Hour.
Calm.
Quiet.
Evaluating.
Then Athena leans against a nearby mast and says nothing.
The silence isn't hostile.
Nor welcoming.
It simply exists.
The Shadow of The Black Hawk waits.
If Hour wishes to speak, the hellhound is listening.
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