there was a great big moose, he liked to drink a lot of juice

Viðarr was in a reasonably good mood as dawn broke. His head was high, eyes bright. Hell, for the first time in a long time, it had even seen he'd grown. Chosen of the gods, much like the priestess was. The gifts had shone down upon them, and Viðarr wasn't about to throw that away. The shadow had resolved to make them proud, and do what he could to thank them for their deeds. Though he wasn't sure what exactly had pleased them so, it was clear that he was on the right path. Grateful as always. Grateful as ever.

And it was with that good mood that the shadow set himself out on the trail. Prey... yes, a meal sounded good. He'd be able to bring something down for the family. Already they were preparing their stores for the winter chill, when it came. With a keen eye and swift paws, it wasn't long before Viðarr found a trail. Calving season for the moose meant that the large animals would be vulnerable. Excellent timing. Instead of needing the help of the entire family, he could hopefully take it on his own. The gods really were smiling on him.

The shadow was intense as he moved over the ground, head low, though his movements didn't stiffen. Viðarr thought for a moment as the winds shifted, pausing. Swiftly he moved to a muddy puddle from a recent storm, rolling in it to mask his own scent. Yes, couldn't allow the moose to know that he was coming. Covered in mud but not necessarily dripping, Viðarr returned to the scent trail, tracking to the west. Towards the waterfall peak, the trail that ran beside it. It made sense to him-- likely that they'd be near a water source. On the stiff summer breeze, he could smell them. With the early lights of the morning shining around his shoulders, Viðarr continued on the trail.

"Viðarr"