Well, I Feel Sheepish

Red trotted along, his gaze slowly sweeping across the desert lands. He was looking for crafting supplies, anything would do. Pretty stones to polish, soft metals that could be worked without smithing, feathers, quills (his own being closer to hedgehog bristles meant that they weren't removable and were therefore not a convenient source of quills), bones... well, anything really. While he acted as a hunter for Valhalla, crafting had always been his true passion and he'd developed his hunting skills specifically to support that habit, but some things couldn't be obtained by hunting and others were simply easier to just pick up where they'd been abandoned by other hunters, so it didn't hurt to go on these little collecting missions to see what he could find. He had a set of saddlebags slung over his back to tuck his finds into, and his tools were rolled up into a hide that was simply laid across the saddlebags to be more easily accessed without needing to wriggle out of the saddlebag setup in order to get to them. Among the tools were firemaking supplies and a serrated blade he'd attached lengthwise to a leather pad for his paw so he could - with a great deal of effort - saw through larger wood to build better fires. A coticule whetstone he'd been able to find in the rubble of an old mine waited beside it, ready to sharpen the serations at need. He'd used the serrated blade to cut pieces out of large bones or interesting chunks of wood he wanted to bring with him as well, so dragging it around certainly was worthwhile even if he never had to build a fire.

He lifted his eyes to the horizon at the sudden flurry of vultures taking flight and hesitated a moment before changing his direction to where they had taken off from. A small figure seemed to be struggling near where they'd been, and he was concerned.

Getting closer showed a young wolf, probably not even a year old, struggling to drag a bighorn along with her. The vultures, or some other scavenger, had obviously already been at the body, but she seemed determined. "Excuse me, miss. Could you use an extra set of paws to help you with that?" he asked her, modulating his voice gently to not startle her if she was the fearful type - though the fearful type would probably not be battling vultures for their would-be meal.