Northstar Vale macaroni art

Roll here: ( 5 ) Even is success... and looool.

There wasn't much Tryphon could do aside from take orders, and he did so silently. There were plenty of lessons to be had here, and while the boy wasn't so keen on learning new things at this moment in his life, he was eager to be of use and justafiably afraid of screwing up. He read the subtle messages that Dagfinn gave out - beyond the mere shift of his eyes, there was a myriad of signals for Tryphon to translate. 

When his hunting partner was situated in a comfortable place, they locked gazes with one another, and Tryphon knew the moment would be coming quickly. He could not fail in this venture. He would not. This was a chance to prove to himself that he wasn't a lost cause (even if it was just a simple task, and versus a simple-minded creature). Dagfinn shot away from his mark, and Tryphon braced for the reaction of the gang.

The birds reacted to the dark assailant in a way that both wolves could easily anticipate: they bolted. A few threw up their wings as if to fly, some ran for cover, and all of them made a chorus of chaotic shrieks. The boy had been waiting for his opportune moment and was so focused on not screwing up that he did what many inexperienced children do: exactly what he dreaded. He was a half-second too slow as he charged after them; a hair's breath away from connecting a single tooth to the noodle neck of a hen; in the cacophony Tryphon couldn't focus on a single bird on its own, and so they fled in to the wilderness with a few less feathers, but with their lives intact.

Tryphon was left wide-eyed and thunder-hearted, a flurry of downy feathers caught on the bitter breath of winter.