Her knife hisses quietly as she draws it from its sheath. Her eyes narrow, she lets out a slow breath, her muscles tense in anticipation as she readies herself to pounce. FWOOSH! She explodes out of her cover behind the trellis, grabbing her prey by the horns, knife out.
“Whoa!! –Oof–” it says. Summer squash flies in every direction out of a bushel as it is knocked over. This is not the cow she was looking for at all. It is, in fact, a slim man with violet skin and four black horns crowning his head. He has long black hair tied into a bun, a full dark beard, and large dark eyes. He seems strangely calm, if not a little startled, to suddenly have a knife pressed against the hollow of his throat.
“...What!?” the woman says, equally - if not more - startled. She straddles him, holding him firmly in place, processing this moment.
