Even if he was going to talk, it wasn't like he could. Looking around, he snorted his nose and slowed his stride. Someone was probably here, somewhere. The isolation he adapted was more familiar than this.

Silent steps pushed him forward, and it had only been once he was beside Gunnar did he stop. Releasing pressure from his mouth, a singular hares foot was allowed to fall until the thud of its body hit his ears, affirmed after by a glaze of his eyes. Why he'd gone out of his way to get another and bring it to Gunnar, he didn't know. He thought about it, and in a stomach churning way, he bit back the thought that he'd done it because of him. A lone cry of remembrance, a tick in his shoulder and a past that wouldn't just leave. He pushed it back, and then he wouldn't think about it.

"Here. It's yours." After gently blinking his eyes, he calmly held his head down while holding the other hare against the ground. This way, he could have a loose mouth and speak. 

"No," he'd only started to respond to the last half of his speech. "Been looking by where all them ferns grow." His path had taken him north a lot, scoping out around the overture downs, but never travelling off from it. He'd gone west at some point too, but little was there any reason to leave Kvarsheim. Since he'd been here, he'd hardly done so. Why should he? To himself, he'd decided he'd go out again after this. Leave to stalk down more.

"Haven't smelled much." 

They had deer within their own territory, but at what point was hunting in their own territory a bad idea? Should they have done so too much, they could wash out their prey as it attempted to flee from their presence.

He'd find better, if they didn't first.

Maybe if he'd had the same amount of approval from a father when his legs could hardly stand and his head was soft, things would have turned out differently.

With a still tail and a twitching ear, his head turned to his right while he thought. It took a moment, and it seemed as if he was not getting anywhere. When his head turned back, it would not have been surprising if he spat out a no. Instead, he stared and expected a no from Fadir. "You, uh, got sparring?" Wouldn't kill him to ask. Even if it did, he was ready to of it regardless. 

"Ulfhild, huh?" The same woman who readily stood by Tauris to rip his tonsils out? Yeah, she would be good for trying to do it again, wouldn't she? "And Inkeri? And these allies Swiftcurrent, they've got fighters too?" Options. He was given options, and he sifted through them all one by one, thinking over them in careful, unmade, calm decision.

Well, it seemed he had quite the array to choose from. Maybe Ulfhild. Maybe this Inkeri. Maybe this strange pack, where he'd be alone and not under the eye of anyone he knew so he could focus; though, little did he care about if they did see, and if they did watch. "K." A gentle nod. Then, he'd learn with one of them. He'd improve, he'd get better, and he'd continue to do so until he fell. 

Soft. Too soft.

In a reared head, he shifted the spare rabbit below his feet to his front, and his entire tone came to a shift after his face offered a widened form of expression. "HMPH! But know I ain't doin' this for anyone but me! I'm doing it for myself and no one but myself, so don't you go gettin' any ideas that I'm going to turn into some soft puppy. And I can't fight you, I'd whoop your ass, old man!" He imagined his paw striking his face, and his wrinkly old bones hitting the ground. Bonnie imagined a shock wave, and the funeral that would come if his breath even touched Gunnar's face. Gods, he wasn't a MURDERER! Stupid Gunnar. Roughly leaning down to grip the extra rabbit, he gripped it in his teeth and went to highly trot himself off.