Deepwood Weald so blissful i press on

He stood by idly as the pale-headed wolf went through what was presumably his process. Or perhaps it was an educated guess to where the deer liked to linger, not that Dirge disagreed with it any. It was true that in daylight they would venture to the more open swatches of land, partly to stretch their legs and travel all heads on a swivel and partly to feed; it would make sense for them to head to the fringes and go from there.

Though he saw the unasked question burn bright in smaller wolf's gaze, he did not answer it verbally but rather with the turn of his body towards the way he had come moments before. A toss of his head affirmed the direction he would take and he set off. The particulars of the matter could be worked out once they found something to go off, assuming they would. Dirge was not foolish enough to think this area went unexamined and hunted through; he doubted his temporary companion felt differently.