[He doesn't need telling twice, and the way he moves now is all predetor, steps fluid and sinuous and full of purpose, for all that - for the moment - he still keeps those respectful two steps behind his Handler. There's something in him though, an invisible tugging, straining at the metaphorical leash.
The movement ahead becomes clearer to him the closer they get, and when he speaks again his smooth, cool voice is infinitesimally coloured by anticipation.]
It looks like a small group of people heading this way. Three or four, I think.
[And there's the smell of them, too-- sickness and fear.]
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The movement ahead becomes clearer to him the closer they get, and when he speaks again his smooth, cool voice is infinitesimally coloured by anticipation.]
It looks like a small group of people heading this way. Three or four, I think.
[And there's the smell of them, too-- sickness and fear.]