Dragoncrest Cliffs there is a special place in hell: it's really hip, very exclusive

It was hard to miss the commotion the other young wolves of the pack were making. Artaax himself had been hunting when the noise distracted him, though he had not nearly been so close to actually making a catch. He actually was in the position to witness the fleeing of the turkeys a few seconds into the cacophony - in fact, one nearly flapped itself directly into his face. He was unfortunately too surprised by this to react in time to catch one, but not so much. He stood, stiff-legged and silent as the birds bustled past, only moving when he'd had a sufficient amount of time to frown thoughtfully in the direction they had disappeared before turning to stride in the direction they had come.

Artaax rounded the thick trunks of the trees to come upon three of his packmates - Bobby, Dalia, and Furi. He glanced between the trio wordlessly, noting different shades of discomfort upon each face. He canted his head slightly as he considered them, his mind putting together the pieces of the puzzle. He took in a slow breath before his muzzle twitched into a small, bemused smile, "So... what are we having then since turkey's off the menu?"