Whitefish River Like white smoke

His cheerful greeting was not returned (he supposed because of the deceased grouse betwixt the shadow's jaws) but it mattered little to the ginger youth - his tail wagged in steady beats at his rear, ears cupped forward to hear any words that might be spoken. None came, but the stranger responded with a quiet wag of their own tail and appeared friendly enough. Perhaps Kieran would get that casual conversation he so desired on a bitter morning such as this. 

A silent question was proposed as the man spotted the contraption around his neck, and the young hunter shrugged his shoulders lightly. "Some big noisy grey bird flew over. I don't know why but I don't remember much of what happened, only that I woke up with this on my neck. It doesn't hurt - I don't think it's dangerous. Just a bit uncomfortable." The Streiter had no issue when it came to talking, finding himself often the one to start conversations.