Vidarr had told Strai that before he would be considered for a rank, he would first need to improve one skill other than fighting. He had settled on hunting, feeling he already had a solid foundation for the skill. It was growing late by the time he left the pack lands and made his way to the Redbud nook. He did wince a little as he did so - twice now, he had seen bears in this territory. It was clearly a favoured place for them to hang out. But, perhaps if he did run into one, it would be another chance to prove himself. He was still young and foolish enough to think that was important enough to face a bear at night.

The sun had fully set by the time he was fully in the territory, and he set about searching for something to hunt.

He ignored a couple scents, birds and squirrels, that would likely be deep in their burrows or high up in the treetops by now. He didn’t want to bother trying to dig them out or climb for them. Far too much work. Instead, he continued on until he caught a scent he had never found before. It was wet, and fishy smelling. Something that belonged in water. It wasn’t a trail he had ever followed before, and his curiosity got the better of him. He had no word for the creature, he didn’t know to call it an otter, but he would hunt it down anyway.

WC: 252/1500


"Speech"

It was a tad unusual for him to be out and about this far north and east into Boreas, but the unusual light of the night sky was throwing him off. Why was the moon so large? The sky so bright? Colorful? He had never actually witnessed the aurora borealis before and witnessing it now made him nervous. He had always been told he would have to venture far into the north to see them so why was he seeing them now as he wandered through the blooming cherry blossoms?

Distracted by the often daring glances up to the sky, Wilder was surprised when a wolf scent caught his attention. Pausing a moment, he turns his nose, taking in the scents at first until his vermilion eyes land on a snow white boy who appeared to be following a trail. His own nose scents the fishy, wet smell with a tinge of musk that could only belong to an otter. A smile braces his lips as he approaches the kid from the side, naturally bumping his shoulder with the stranger's as if they'd been best friends for centuries. "If you're hunting otter, you'll probably want help," Wilder whispers to the boy as he continues to follow the trail with him.

"They're slippery and bite back," he lets out a chuckle as a not so fond memory of his last entanglement with the river creature comes to mind.

WILDER

wc: 237
total: 489