skirting dangerously close

The Warlord barked out a laugh at that. “A shitty line of defence, and no healer to tell her she’s pregnant even up to the day of giving birth? You’ve given us some interesting intel indeed, my son” He said as he tied the berries to the trap. He smeared some of the juice on the noose, to make it look a little less threatening. As he got back to his paws, and shook out his coat, he made a thoughtful noise.

“Marshal, see if you can find something, I don’t fancy tracking all through these vines” he ordered, watching as the bird lifted off, and made a slow glide away from them. The Warlord turned the opposite direction of the bird to cover more ground. Moving slowly so as not to startle anything, and be mindful of the thorns.

"Speech"