Stone Circle the rage of mountains when they tremble

As Wardruna moves forth, attempting to be stealthy as not to spook the elk he tracks his ears pivot as a new set of footfalls approach. He scents Valette before she speaks and he subconsciously shifts so he can see her out of his right eye without having to physically turn his head. Her ebon coat is familiar: and her presence does not come as a surprise to him but he casts a glimpse at Noma in the distance. Would she have been of the health to join them the northerner would have invited his thrall over and perhaps would they have been a trio they might have been able to take one of the elk down. But she is still nearly skeletal and not anywhere near healthy enough to join in their hunt. After his failed hunt a few moments ago, however, he’s in no mood to even attempt another one any time soon. He is good at tracking, at least. Prey, wolves. It mattered little to him. At least with tracking he can reply more heavily upon his sense of smell and hearing: sight will only tell him so much and sometimes it can prove false.

“Já,” Wardruna speaks in acceptance when Valette poses her question to him; as if he is to refuse her. She is the Alpha, after all. “I’m just going to …," Wardruna struggles visibly for a moment, wracking his brain for the right translation. "...watch them.” Close enough, Wardruna thinks as he motions to the general direction of the herd with his muzzle, not really wanting to admit of his failure to catch the rabbit that escaped him and relive it quite so soon. Tracking the herd down and then watching their grazing patterns for a few hours was not exactly a highlight of the ex-berserker’s life but it was being useful in one of the very few ways he can pull his weight.