Ranger's Apprentice [Mask]

The yearling gave Mask a bright smile as he accepted her offer, both to help her hunt, and to teach her his tongue. As he gestured, she turned and padded lightly back the way she’d come, though her path was more straightforward, rather than following his scent trail.

Her voice was softly spoken as she answered him, choosing to walk mostly beside him, if slightly in the lead. “My family speaks the Old Tongue. But my father, and my grandmother, from what I’m told, as well as my great grandmother, all put much emphasis on learning many languages. I like to learn about them.”

Her eyes scanned the plains ahead as she sought out the forms of the deer. They were where she expected them to be, and she nodded to herself before she smiled sidelong at Mask, asking, “What is the italiano word for Deer? In the Old Tongue, deer is ‘Fianna’.”

Her tone had lowered to just above a murmur as she tested the wind, finding it to be blowing in their direction. Good. Though, she imagined the deer here were probably semi-used to the scent of wolves here. She could see the older doe, noticeable in the way her head drooped and she moved with great care and pain.

Not only that, but she could smell the difference in scent. Old, infected and ill. Her eyes turned to Mask again, though her ears remained tilted toward the deer, keeping tabs on their hoof beats as she asked softly, “What would your tactics be, here? It may be my first hunt, but I’m always willing to learn more. My thoughts were to perhaps cut her off from the herd and drive her at a forced march. She shouldn’t be too hard to exhaust.”

Her tone was speculative as she glanced back to the deer. But she waited for his response, willing to take in any wisdom he may have for her.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think