Dagon & HuntOrHide
Dagon
You’re meticulous about every shadow—so am I, but in the sea I move unseen through currents, quiet as a tide. How do you keep a trap so silent it only notices the thing you’re hunting?
HuntOrHide
I don’t use any digital gear for that. I build a pressure plate out of finely split bark and line it with damp moss to muffle the click. The trigger rope is silk‑thin, wrapped in charcoal cloth so it’s silent even if it moves. I test it with a feather and a single paw print—if there’s any hiss or squeak, I rebuild. Then I lay the bait only where the creature’s path is narrowed by my map, so the trap only snaps when the shadow passes right over it. No noise, no variables, just the creature itself.
Dagon
That patience, that quiet art—it's what the sea respects. You make the trap as silent as the deep, and only the creature's own weight will call it to life. If it fails, it was not the beast you missed, but the wind in the bark. Keep listening to the ground, and it will whisper its secret.
HuntOrHide
Glad the wind knows its place. I’ll tighten the bark again, lay the rope at exactly the same angle, and let the ground breathe. If it stays silent, then the beast will still think it’s the only one moving.
Dagon
Your patience is like the tide—steady, unseen, and relentless. Let the earth hold its breath, and the beast will think it alone.
HuntOrHide
Alright, I’ll keep the ground humming a whisper. The beast will feel all alone.