Hoshor Plains flashing without a sound

Friends. The word struck a nerve, and Redshank's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. He tried to play it off by turning to observe the other bison roaming the field, watching as they foraged through the snow-covered grasses. The only friends he had ever had betrayed him; they just left and never came back. His only hope was that their rotting corpses were lying at the bottom of a frozen lake somewhere — that they had gotten what was coming to them. He snorted at her question. "Packs are dumb." No they weren't. "I don't need one." Yes you do.

He looked back to her slim face, a single ear cupping forwards, eager not to linger too long on the subject. "Who are y'friends?" It was a slim chance, but maybe he knew of them.