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Originally Posted by Mottledcrow

A shifting in the nearby shrubbery is audible enough, the responsible occupant mutedly cursing himself out. Rowan, collecting himself and endeavoring to recall his training for these sorts of things, fathoms the pacing of his frightened hearts near petrified expression upon his own young features. With a haughty sough of indignation towards himself, the anxious searcher dwells upon the decisions of his next action. His ears flick downwards in a terrified manner, yet the juvenile satyr is well aware that he can't merely hover here until the girl passes. That's not his job. He needs to save her; accompany her to sanctuary, to Camp Half-Blood. No matter how much his bounding heart might protest. With lithe hooves clicking against the dirt beneath him, Rowan endeavors to abscond his jade surroundings, merely peeking out towards the child. However, just as he catches a timid glimpse of the girl, (Selene, as he'd been informed,) he fathoms himself falling, his gaunt and awkward hooves having caught themselves against some brambles and tripped. A wince contorts the satyr's sienna expression into one of groaning anguish, of a startling abrupt surprise. His flaxen gaze, morose and terrified, flickers up towards the half-blood. "Uh," he utters, an anxious chortle infecting his throat; "Hey, there."

Selene whipped around as she heard a sound, her hands shaking as she held out the knife in front of her. Her eyes nervously flickered back and forth. She kept shifting from one foot to another, it was something she had heard her mom say to do a million times. She had to keep moving or when she started to sprint again it would feel like her lungs were splintering into a million tiny pieces. She tried to quiet her breathing, pure fear still flowing in her veins. She staggered back when she saw someone fall out in front of her, a small giggle escaping her mouth. Despite that, she was still really scared, unable to return his greeting, her hands trembling.