get good, kid

Basilisk snorted in amusement at her comment. “I feel like that’s all I’m doing these days, too.” His grandfather loved to send him out to hunt. Said it had something to do with his ability to eat enough for three wolves… not that he complained, really. He still had a lot to learn, and there was a sense of accomplishment in bringing something down.

“I’ve done traps a couple different ways, but haven’t used wood yet. Mind if I stick around and see how you're going to do it?” He asked. He was definitely getting a good variety of hunting styles under his belt. At her request, he gave a sharp whistle and a falcon swooped down. After he murmured something to her, she took off. Returning shortly later with some rope hanging from her beak.


"Speech"