Swiftcurrent Creek Get some gravel in your claws

Phoenix looked up as one of his packmates emerged then. It wasn't someone he'd met yet: long-legged with bony hips and a greyed cape.  He thought immediately that the male had seen his entire folly—not just the result of it—causing a sheepish tuck of his red-backed ears. The young wolf was eager to seem impressive, and he imagined now that he didn't seem anything of the sort. It was a huge annoyance to not be absolutely perfect at all times; it was something he'd have to learn to get over if ever wanted to be a kind, well-adjusted adult.

"Heeey," he greeted, shamefaced, but the happy little wiggle of his compatriot's peppered tail caused a swift lift in his spirits. Phoenix smiled and waved his own tail as the male introduced himself as Clock. "Well met, Clock. I'm Phoenix." He thought at first that maybe Clock hadn't noticed his missed quarry after all, but his hopes were dashed as quickly as they'd bubbled up, when the warm-eyed Creeker expressed his condolences for the failed pursuit.

Phoenix tried not to look crestfallen; but in the next beat, he was offered an opportunity to remake his first impression. A hunt— just the two of them! The brutish yearling could barely contain his excitement. "That'd be great, my friend," he beamed, copper eyes glinting as he made to set himself in a tall stance by Clock's side. "Know any good spots?"