If she won't choose a man to adorn her, we'll bring blood and tears

A large prey animal would be more than enough in his current state. He watched them from a distance, stomach growling at the thought of sinking his teeth into delectable pronghorn meat. None of them appeared truly ready for the picking though so if he did want one, he'd have to do something different. His mind churned, thinking of what he could do until he notices a familiar wolfdog in the middle of something.

Curiosity piqued, Ursus made his way over to Epimethius who was in the middle of building what looked to be a trap. A quiet chuff releases from his muzzle as he approaches. "I can help," he states, not really asking because who would tell him no? If shit went sideways, he'd be more than capable of picking up the slack. "I can collect the plants while you strip them," Ursus offers before turning his attention to Locke, his raccoon. "Help him," he directs, the raccoon giving a nod before scurrying over to stand in front of Epimethius with a toothy grin.

In the next moment, Ursus strolls a few feet away, beginning to gather long stems and grasses.