Mitros had done quite a few hunts now, having claimed an elephant, a giraffe, a hippo, some rabbits, and a stoat. He was improving quickly in technique and finesse, but something he was sorely lacking was experience in other styles of hunting. The elephant hunt had been a small example of what a wolf could do if it did not have the power (or numbers) to take down a prey animal, and Mitros wanted to further explore that way of acquiring a kill. If he was going to be a loner for the rest of his life, he'd probably need to figure out how to take down bigger game by himself - and the best way to do that was a trap.

He'd heard of snares and traps that were rigged to execute a prey animal on touch, but those seemed complex and without an instructor to guide him through the motions, he doubted he'd be very successful. A pitfall trap however seemed easy enough, and he knew it could work from the way they'd driven the elephant off the cliff. The first step, he assumed, was to dig a hole. All the while he worked, he sang a wordless, happy tune, already dreaming of the meat that would soon be his.

"Speech"

The scarred woman has been roaming the lands, a wraith barely part of the living world. Tove had met a wolf, promised to join his pack and now she is out trying to hone her skills a little more. She was lounging behind a large rock when the sounds of digging reached her white tipped ears. Curious, the scarred woman stood and went toward the sound, finding a young, very tall, very blue wolf digging a… hole. Eyebrows lift as she approaches the youth, eyes darting between him and the ground.

Working some saliva into her mouth, Tove’s voice cuts through the air, her rough, gravely, unused tones causing her to wince as she says, “Hunting?” He nods at her and she adds, “Pit needs to be wide enough to catch the prey but cannot been seen by it. Let me show you.” Tove moves forward, using her claws to mark out the area for a pit before grunting, “Dig here.” And promptly begins to dig.


"Tove Baade"

To the approaching stranger he spared a glance, grunting and nodding in ascent as he dug when she correctly guessed his intentions. It wasn't until she spoke again that he stopped his frantic digging, leaning over to watch as she demonstrated. Why did her voice sound so weird? It was a question that would probably be considered rude (and he didn't need another lesson in rudeness after calling out stinky Medusa for her stink) and so he kept it to himself, eyeing her warily instead.

Truthfully he hadn't given much thought to the location of the hole, and so he was happy to adjust his paws as she directed. It seemed every adult out there had some knowledge to give, and Mitros was hungry for all of it. "Have you ever dug one of these before? I want to chase something into it, I was thinking of putting big sticks at the bottom so they'd fall and die quickly." Digging while speaking was a bit of a hazard, what with the flying dirt and all, but Mitros was finding he enjoyed whatever rare conversation he could get, once suddenly separated from his packmates.

"Speech"

Tove watches the blue boy, the curiosity in his eyes at her voice not escaping the older wolf’s duel-toned eyes. Snorting in amusement, she moves to lay out an area for the boy, directing him to dig within her claw marked boundary. He seems eager to learn and asks about putting sticks in the bottom. The woman shrugs her heavily scarred shoulders and her gravelly voice fills the air once more as she says, “You could but might not kill the prey quickly. Also, more work for you. Work smarter not harder.” Tove swallows thickly, her throat disliking being used so much in such a short amount of time.

She returns to digging the side of the pit opposite the boy and indicates to him the depth it should be. Darting a glance to him she croaks out, “Tove” and gestures a paw to herself. Gods, she has forgotten how to talk to others. Turning her attention back to the pit, the older wolf feels the need to explain her heavily scarred head and shoulders and why her voice sounds so weird. A grunted word fills the air as she glances to the boy and points to her face, “Bears.” Her paw moves to her throat to indicate as well before returning to scooping out dirt from their trap.


"Tove Baade"

The bi-colored woman had little (or a lot, for her?) to say about his idea of lining the bottom with sticks, and Mitros shrugged, easily accepting it as more work then it was worth. Sure it sounded cool to have a creature impale itself to death on spikes, but perhaps it was harder to achieve in theory. the last thing he wanted was for it to land in the pit, break the sticks but not itself, and for him to be forced to scurry down there avoiding the wood to finish it off.

She spoke another few words, the first clearly being her own name. "Mitros." He responded in turn, glancing over at her gestures while he dug. The learned wolf had marked a depth, and Mitros reminded himself to be careful to ensure his own side of the pit would match her indication. They didn't need a lopsided trap.

To her next gesture, the boy's paws slowed in their rapid movements. He squinted, his head tilting to the side, and then clued in. As the realization hit, a wide grin spread across his young face. "Coooooool. You won, yeah?"

"Speech"

The kid accepts her words on the use of sticks and a fleeting smile passes over her scarred lips. Something tells Tove that he is going to try using stakes the next time he goes hunting. Ah, the joy of being so young again. When your follies are helping you learn. They go back to working and she grunts out her name, the tall boy giving his own and she dips her head in a respectful greeting. She shows him the depth that the pit should be before moving toward the center, as the scooped-out dirt lines the edges of their trap.

As Tove tells Mitros about her scars, a wide grin spreads across the youth’s face and her eyebrows shoot up. His interest and question catches the scarred woman off guard and she barks out a rough laugh while shaking her head slightly. If only it was that easy and not the painful a story it is. But… since she lived… that counts as winning right? Duel-toned eyes spark with mirth as she looks to the blue boy and rumbles out, “Oh yeah.” A wink is given to him before she returns to finishing to dig the trap.

Once satisfied, Tove leaps out of their pit and walks to where the piled dirt is. Carefully she begins to start to spreading it out and looks to Mitros, saying, “Hide. Make it look normal.” A wince pulls at her features as her throat aches from talking so much but she still wants to show the young, eager boy how to hunt. She brings branches, grass, anything and everything she can to help camouflage the dirt piles. It is a fine line that they walk, working to make it look natural while also trying not to draw attention to their trap.


"Tove Baade"

Mitros' grin widened as the woman confirmed that she did indeed win the fight against the bear. He already assumed she'd had, because she was alive and the bear was not here, but he couldn't rule out that she had run from it or something like a coward. "I hope I get to fight a bear one day." He replied cheerfully, already imagining how the fight might differ then the large prey he'd taken.

Tove jumped out of the hole and Mitros took that to mean that this part in the trap was complete. He looked down at the pit and hummed thoughtfully. Sticks in the bottom would be cooler. As Tove spoke once more he pulled his attention away, observing what she was doing and attempting to explain, and catching on after a few moments of thought. They needed to hide the trap, that made sense.

Trotting over to the nearest cluster of foliage, Mitros began to grab as many branches, twigs and leaves that he could carry in his maw. He made sure to grab the longest branches he could find, so that they might be able to lie ontop of the hole and not fall in until they were stepped upon. Throughout the process the yearling spared many a glance to Tove and her work, emulating it the best he could.

"Speech"

The older, scarred wolf cannot help but give a rough, dry chuckle at the younger boy’s enthusiasm about fighting a bear. Looking to him, mirth sparking in her duel-toned eyes, Tove says, “Just wait until you kill one.” A wink is given before she turns her attention back to their trap. While she might not have killed the bears that took Bodin from her, she knows that they were hunted down and killed by the band. It is a small comfort in the dark void that has become her life since that fateful day.

Hopping out of the pit, the pair cover their trap and, once Tove is satisfied that is hidden, she looks to Mitros. A small smile appears on scarred lips as she says, “Deer or pronghorn?” She had seen both wandering about nearby and it would be easy to herd them in this direction. Once the younger wolf picks, she directs him to lead the way to nearest herd and falls into step behind him.


"Tove Baade"

With the trap built and hidden, all that was left was to find a prey animal and lead it into it. Mitros wished they could lead a bear into it instead... but he was capable of patience. Tove then asked him to decide on a species to hunt and the yearling tipped his head in contemplation. He'd never killed a pronghorn before - which made it enticing - but he knew deer and had familiarity in hunting them. Erring and ahhing for a moment, eventually the blue boy made his decision. "Pronghorn!" He was able to distinguish two scents nearby and through process of elimination, determine which one was the appropriate target. Trotting off happily after the scent trail with the stranger at his heels, Mitros led them toward their feast-to-be.

Once they grew near, the young hunter drew into a tightly coiled crouch. He had no intention of spooking the animal and making it all his fault they could not take home a kill today. Glancing behind him to the woman, he gave a soft querying gesture toward the animals. He wanted her to be the one to run at them and initiate the chase - they'd hidden the trap so well, what if Mitros forgot where it was? If Tove could take on the hard part, Mitros could harass from the back and ensure they stayed where Tove wanted them and did not veer.

"Speech"

The tall icy-hued boy picks pronghorn and Tove gives a small, rough chuckle at his excitement. With a dip of her head, she indicates for him to lead and Mitros is quick to pick up the prey’s trail. He leads her to the nearby pronghorns and, as he crouches low, so does the older woman, ears shifting and nose twitching as he makes sure that they are in a good position. Mitros turns to gesture at the animals and the scarred wolf moves up to join the tall boy at his side.

She knows exactly where the trap is and the perfect route to take as they drive the animal toward it. Looking to the taller boy, Tove offers him a small smile and short dip of her head before returning her attention to the herd. A large, healthy pronghorn catches her eye and the older wolf readies her body to chase after it. Sucking in a deep breath, the scarred woman releases the air in one long exhale while launching herself forward.

Rocketing toward the prey, the older woman growls as loud as she can once she near the animals, causing them to jump and begin to scatter. As they move, Tove runs up beside her target and snaps at its front leg. The pronghorn veers away and unknowingly set itself onto the course the wolves have picked for it. Once it is where she wants it, the red and blue woman drops back and runs slightly behind the right side of the animal. If it tries to veer off course, she can rush forward to hem it back it. Meanwhile, she snaps at its hind leg to keep it racing toward their awaiting trap.


"Tove Baade"

Mitros watched as Tove got into position, choosing one of the healthier looking individuals of the herd and expertly cutting it out from it's kin. He idled excitedly in the grass as he watched the huntress direct and redirect the animal, and once it seemed to be on the right path, shot forward to assist. While Tove fell into the pronghorn's right flank, Mitros took the left. Staying a decent distance off as to not press the creature to turn into her, but close enough that he could step up his speed and intercept it if it tried to veer off the wrong way. Running it down was reminiscent of driving the elephant off the cliff with Corbie, and the bright blue yearling's maw was pulled in a wide grin as he ran.

He did not know where the trap was and was working entirely off Tove's positioning, adjusting as she did and doing his best to simply keep the pronghorn on the path she had set. When the creature fell through the well-concealed hole in the ground, Mitros damn near tumbled ass over face in trying to stop his sprint. Next time, he'd need to pay more attention to where he set any concealed trap.

"Speech"

The pronghorn runs and Mitros joins the chase. Tove gives the prey some room, driving it onward without forcing it into her hunting partner. She remembers where the trap was laid, had set landmarks in her head to look for as she neared and completely forgot to mention that the icy-boy should do the same. As they near, the older wolf suddenly slows and watches in horror as Mitros continues to rocket forward. Oh shit!

Their trap gives, sending the pronghorn crashes down into the earth. It screams as it falls, the sound of breaking legs filling the air and Tove watches the tall boy with great fear. Luckily, he manages not to follow the animal down, although, it might have been a bad thing if he did. The downed prey animal would have provided padding for him and it might have even broken the poor screaming things neck. Shooting the boy an amused smile and gentle shake of her head, the scarred woman leaps down into their trap to end the struggling animal’s life.

Opening its neck, Tove stands guard over the creature, ensuring its transition from this life into the next is as swift as she can possibly make it. Once the pronghorn is dead, the older woman nimbly leaps back up out of the hole and shakes out her coat. Turning to Mitros, she gives the boy a warm, friendly smile as she says, “Good job. Next time… remember to look for landmarks.” A rough, gravely chuckle fills the air as the pair then set about removing the pronghorn and divvying up the meat.


"Tove Baade"