Morningside Cuesta Hunt for who we've not yet become

Ears swivelled round at the sound of Grayday's voice coming from behind him, amber eyes peered to Grayday as he approached and the brown male offered the brute a polite nod of his head before replying, ”Nothing yet.” Sylvas said with a long sigh, ”I can smell pheasants around the edge of the lands, along with other species of bird, though it's mingled with the strong stench of fox.” The brute grumbled slightly, snorting at the aroma of fox, his fur bristling slightly as he thought back to his last encounter, the male having developed a personal dislike toward the pesky, troublesome creatures, especially from past experiences.

Giving a flick of his tail, Sylvas turned to look across the Cuesta once more, black lips parting as he allowed his gruff voice to escape his maw, ”Other than small game, I am yet to come across anything large enough to feed all those hungry mouths.” He licked his chops for a brief moment before turning his head to look back to Grayday once more, ”Unless you fancy doing a pheasant round up?” Sylvas chuckled light-heartedly.