Hoshor Plains flashing without a sound

His encounters to the northwest had been...unpleasant, if he had to describe them. Redshank was still covered in small bites and bruises, some from other wolves, some from would-be meals. He still hadn't managed to put on any bulk, and grew more feral looking by the day. So, the boy travelled inland. He had at least one goal in mind, however, and that was to find Titmouse again.

Redshank had made to cross the sun-drenched plains, cut through them before heading further south, but his attention was stolen by the herd of massive beasts that made their home here. The milled around the frosted river, their cries and grunts breaking the silence of the grasslands. A small, vibrant form sat at a distance away from them, and Redshank peered closely, noting the distinct scent of wolf.

His devilish instinct told him to cause a stampede, watch her run in terror, but he hadn't the strength to. The sights of the giant creatures only served to cause his stomach to twist and growl in hunger. He licked his lips and instead began to pick his way down to the female, softly chuffing to get her attention.