Only the birds about the runner's tree seem to move, flickering and fluttering here and there. The grass near the cheetah rustles just once, fast as imagination. Stealth 3, and Scent of Running Water. Fireborn doesn't seem to make much move towards anything, the cat having hunted earlier in the day and eaten his fill before the vultures divebombed from above and hyena-subs rose from the muddy ocean. The grass rustle earns an ear, however, and a slow turn of his half-closed eyes with lax curiosity.
Birds beep and squeak and call to one another as they flutter about the arms of the tree.
A little insect trundles up a blade of grass, making it dangle with its weight. Remnants of stormclouds are reduced to little wisps in the sky. The grasses sway gently. There's a digging sound. Fireborn sniffs first, though the wind for the moment is stagnant, heavy with the humidity of recent rain.