Skilling up

Alaric's nose was to the ground as he tracked the prey that had led him to this prairie. It was a wounded doe. He could smell the blood in her trails, old and infected. If he didn't take her, infection surely would. She was slow, he could tell by how little distance she covered since she discovered she was being tracked. Alaric's cane corsos Maul and Cinder were behind him, scoping out the area for potential threats while keeping low as to not disturb prey. Alaric would be hunting without his dogs this time.

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