Divine intervention, is that what you seek?

Ursus was beginningto learn that the wolf-dog was craftier than he appeared on the outside. After a successful bout with a lion and crafting the traps to down the antelope, he didn't hesitate to approach once more. This time, it seemed that the wolf-dog was collecting larger, thicker, stronger branches and sticks. Definitely not the sign of snare traps. Though he might be of more help this time instead of sending Locke to do the tedious work.

"How big of sticks would you like?" Ursus requested, okay being the one following directions instead of giving them. He could bow to the will of others when needed. It was all a part of the game of life.

When Epimethius responded, Ursus would turn. Walking along the edges of the prairie where windswept boughs lay haphazardly, ready for the taking. Using his large mouth to gather quite a few, he would traverse back and forth until the wolf-dog deemed they had enough sticks.