Memories that haunt us like ghosts

Az moved like a ghost on the land, eerily silent yet strikingly haunting all the same. His head was low, body toned and primed. He was a harbinger of death in the silhouette of him.

Mismatched gaze was set forward, a glance given to the man who lead them. The red pelt a common familiarity to him but the land around them new, strange and nothing like home. His quills, normally smoothed into his fur and relaxed, stood upright and his ears pressed forward. Caution played in his face and movements. Both men had seen and been through a lot.

He couldn't afford to get complacent now.

Soft jingles were heard as he gave a shake of his pelt to try to relieve his own tension from his body. "Sure, if by feast you mean scraps of tiny shit tasting crustaceans." his voice deep and growling, yet he did not growl, dripped with sarcasm. Be did not see a feast, he saw tiny morsels that didn't befit a half god. He could of easily taken down a deer or gotten them a few fish, but Oath seemed to see something in these small crabs. He lifted a paw and used a toe to flick away a particularly tiny specimen of crab, its shell a swirled conch but less than the size of his toe. This was scraps. They should be living like the demigods they were, instead they were scraping up a meager living.