Look Da, no hands!

Ever since his daughter's encounter with the strange wolf on the outskirts of the Hallows, Artorias had amped up the Knights' patrols around the borders, picking up extra shifts himself to be on the ground with his wolves helping to make sure their home stayed safe. Though he didn't think a single lone wolf would dare try to make a move against the pack, he wasn't about to roll the dice when it came to his children's safety. It was for that reason that when Ciaran's call for him came out, Art didn't spare a second to abandon his patrol route and sprint across the plains from one end to the other to intercept his son. Kea had really taken to the Knight lifestyle, even volunteering to run patrols at such a young age. He reminded the Aegis of himself when he was the pup's age, and it warmed his heart to know his son was taking his aspirations so seriously. It was no secret that Kea was working his way towards his own blade, and at this rate, it would only be a matter of time before Artorias was giving his son the gift he so desired.

Approaching the ever-growing black and blue pup, Artorias immediately smelled the musky stench on the air. His nose twitched, brow furrowing and expression turning to a sneer of disgust. He would recognize that smell anywhere. Tiger... It smelled fresh, and it smelled close. Art was glad to see Ciaran holding his position, listening to the warning sounds his bear was making. "Have you seen it out here yet, Kea?" he asked his son, steely amber eyes fixed out on the long summer grasses of the plains around them. Tigers were masters of camouflage, and only a telltale flash of orange would be their hint to where the predator might be hiding. "Do you recognize the smell?"

"Artorias Carpathius"