Putting On A Show

Relm smiled when he accepted her offer to join her in a hunt, then made a joke about him trying to undress her when he mentioned her cloak. Alastor gave a dramatic gasp and clasped a paw to his chest in mock offense. "My dear Relm! You impugn my honor! What sort of sordid, lecherous, wild animal do you take me for?" The wide flash of pearly teeth betrayed his jesting, able to tease her back in a way that was very new for Relm. It was also a highly accurate joke, as Alastor had possibly been imagining how much fun he’d have revealing the young woman’s body inch by inch from beneath the black fabric. That fun would have to wait for now though. They had some hunting to do.

The two hunters left pack lands and headed north along the rocky coast, making good pace across the Boreal tundras in search of rich hunting grounds. Alastor let Relm direct the show, taking point to lead them to wherever their hunt took them. Just like her, Alastor was keeping keen ebony eyes open for signs of tracks, presence of prey animals, and had his black nose twitching on the air to scent out any unsuspecting victims. As they traveled, Alastor stole little glances to Relm, watching the way she moved and carried herself, every minute detail of her behavior and mannerisms. It made him smile a bit to see how far she’d come and how much she’d grown from the tiny introverted puppy he’d known when he first arrived in Boreas.

The wolves came to a cliff edge, Alastor surveying the sound around them while Relm sampled the air. Silver eyes glanced to him with a silent question in them, and the dire brute lifted his nose to scent the air as well. Elk. He could smell the cervidae from miles away, but fortunately these ones were closer. The brute turned a wicked grin to his companion—then raised a curious brow while he watched her fiddle with the ties of her cloak, looking as if she were about to remove it—only to meet his intrigued stare with a smirk before launching into a canter down the slope towards their prey. Alastor chuckled beneath his breath and followed after her with a smirk of his own; she was teasing him, the little minx. That was fine. Alastor loved a chase, after all, and didn’t mind a bit more of a bloody chase before anything else.

The wolves wound their way through the sparse woods of the sound, making their way closer and closer to the elk herd with every silent step, moving like shadows through the trees. This far north, an early dusting of snow had powdered the land, chilling the air almost to the point where their breaths were visible in thin misting clouds before their snouts. "Do you have a plan, or are we running them down?" he asked as the scent of elk grew stronger, the predators drawing nearer to their quarry.

"Alastor"