[Quenthalus]

She seemed so alien and distant, or maybe he felt as if he were unfamiliar with her sense of self. The very thought launched him into a side-probe of what he could be missing, that she seemed to so easily posses. Her eyes never wavered from his curious inability to settle still, but her answer to that was to stand. Still seated, he looked up at her, wondering what she was about. Aravanya only seemed to stare down at him, expressions of expectancy etching across her countenance. Startled by her strange pause, he rose up awkwardly and bobbed from left to right unevenly, never taking his eyes from her for fear of falling out of cue. Where did this serious air drift in from?
Her eyes hid a smile, but the rest of her seemed tense across all those supple valleys. "I'll explain the rules of the dance." She began moving on soft steps in a circle, studying the fire that had grown into a worthy blaze. Quenthalus appeared amused and curious, and unaccustomed to the word -rules- being applicable to dance. Nevertheless, he swayed to her subtle movements and listened for her illustrations.
"We came to this meadow from the north. We have found the fire in the center, and now you will Hunt to the south. But you must follow the arc of the moon back to the north, and you can never return down the path you came. Return to the fire before I do, and you will have surely learned the dance." She spoke authoratively on all matters of this Wild Hunt, carefully ambigious about her specific meaning, and aloof with regards to the dances inherent values, but Quenthalus fancied himself an improvisational mover, trusting that the surface of the forest would be grounds for practicing unorthodox and quick-reacting steps. She was right, if he were to fleet across rock and log, fen and rush, he would have to remember those reflexes, as she had said earlier. Still, he didn't see why the element of a race was necessary.
"Every movement is dance in motion, Quenthalus, or it is merely you just existing." Her hand gestured him come forth.
"What do you mean?" He crept forward with two gentle steps, snaking toward her right, then leaping, leaping again, and twirling toward her.
She merely grinned and exploded toward the wood in a flurry of acrobatic insanity that was barely comprehensible to Quenthalus. He was doing his best to find something that was functional and still looked pretty just to keep up with her.