Blacktail Deer Plateau What are you made of?

It was Pema's sweet song that stirred him from whatever monotonous task he had applied himself to that day, and Shale's head lifted, ears pricked as he tried to suss out from where the sound had come. He loped that way and found himself in the plateau's vast meadow, where Pema was standing alone in a flat, open part of the territory.

Cocking a solitary eyebrow upwards, he trotted toward her with a smile of greeting. "What are we up to, today?" he asked, his voice quite chipper. "A hunt?" His heart stirred with excitement at the thought. He had not been on a pack hunt in. . .god, how long had it been? Two summers ago, at least.

She had called for everyone, after all, and Morningside was a hunting pack, or so he had been led to understand. Like his siblings, Shale had been brought up an excellent hunter, and was eager to flex his skills in that area in front of his new packmates--not the least of which was this pretty girl standing here before him.