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Nestled into his hiding spot, he begins to see the forest around him from a different perspective. The way the deer huddle into the sunnier bits to keep warm. How each game trail leading from the meadow was worn down over time from thousands of hooves and paws beating into it. He sees which trees have been rubbed at, whether by antlers, claws, or body, the signs are there. Animals of all life leaving their scent, their mark. A silent communication to tell others who belonged where. From the looks of it, other predators have been around lately too. Chunks of bark missing from the redwoods, branches crudely broken from the brush, larger tracks seeping into the wet ground. Hopefully the newly awoken bear would wait until after his hunt to come berry picking.

As his eyes explore the meadow, an ear turns toward the quiet bark of someone familiar. Though his body remains unmoving, Wilder lets his tail thump softly against the ground in a friendly manner. Waiting for her to crawl up beside him, he turns to give Tethys a cheeky grin. “Teth, don’ min’ at all,” his whispering voice is chipper, glad to see her willing to join him in another hunt.

“I’m jus’ watchin’ them fer righ’ now, but if ya look out to the south of the meadow,” he turns his nose to point in the general direction of south. “There’s a few older does lingerin’, kinda bein’ protected by the younger ones,” his gaze trains on the does to watch their behavior. Slower movements, smaller mouthfuls of grass, their bodies more bony than the rest. “If we wanna snag one, we’ll have to sneak up closer,” Wilder adds on, a brow lifting to see what Tethys thinks of the idea.