Hoshor Plains the long black train

i'm not interested in huntin' them, arktos responds, pausing briefly in his border marking to peer at the earthen and cream colored young man, before he kicks up some more dirt, utilizing the scent glands in his paw pads. at least, not right now.

we're layin' claim to these plains, me and my wife. arktos explains, wincing slightly as a barbed and reedy flora of some time tugs small tufts of fur out of his shoulder.

the herd's under our — yellowstone's — protection. he warns, casting mossgreen gaze to the young man where it remains, steady; soft breaths pushing from his flanks.