Lost Creek Hollow The Wind In The Canyon

Sandy didn’t care if Crowfeather messed up. He said that the dark wolf would have to learn how to adjust, that he would do fine. It was uplifting to hear this from a man who looked so capable, so competent with himself. There did not seem to be a second meaning to his words, either. Though he struggled to, Crowfeather was able to accept what Sandy had said at face value.

The other man gave a glance and began to move forward. There was swiftness in his paws. The capability that the shadow had seen in his figure was clear. Running hadn’t been practiced, but Crowfeather fell into a natural gait with Sandulf. The tripod saw the other man bring his nose to the earth. The shadow lifted his head to hunt the air for scents.

To Sandy it didn't matter if Crowfeather messed up. What mattered was that if he did indeed mess up, then he adjusted and learned from it and didn't take it to heart. That was what would matter most to the dark and russet man. There was a natural confidence to Sandy, but it was not something he really dwelled on. He had learned his own mistakes, and made many, before he had turned into a capable hunter.

There was many scents throughout the forest here. They would have no limits to their prey as long as they didn't grow to large. He caught the scent of some nearby weasels and headed in that direction. If they were near the river, they may even find a fisher or a muskrat, though Sandy wasn't too keen on the latter.

Running with Sandulf reminded the shadow of his hunts with Germanicus. He could not help that he wished the silver eagle was there, with them. He knew that it could not be so. Crowfeather wondered how long the yellow-eyed Imperator’s mark would hang over his head. Such heartache, and he felt like it would never leave him. Each reminder of their separation was a scratch at the scab.

The scent of weasel did not escape the dark tripod. He moved close to Sandy, whiskers twitching with anticipation. The young figure hoped that they would be successful. It would lift his spirits, even just a little. The other man seemed intent on seeking them out, too. Crowfeather stayed near, but watched carefully so that he would not miss the signal from his hunting partner.

Sandy didn't know what kept his new found friend so burdened. But he could only imagine it was familial obligations or love. Those seemed to be the two things that always held you fast in their throes. And he wouldn't ask. This was something that if Crow wanted to share he would, and Sandy would simply listen.

Sandy stopped moving, body pointed, tail erect. Yellow eyes watched with interest and he gave a slow soft chuff to his counterpart, his shadow and then with a growl he barreled forward. Two weasels ran out of the underbrush.

He however, over stepped and missed the one he was aiming for, only hoped that Crow would get the second. He smiled to himself, thankful that he could still be humbled.

Sandy’s eyes were so sharp! Crowfeather hardly had time to react to the weasel duo that had sprung out from their hiding place. The dark young wolf started, surprise taking hold of him. He watched as the other man made his move for one, which left the other for the tripod to attempt.

Crowfeather did not waste any more of his precious time. His leg kicked him forward, faster than he anticipated his pursuit would be. The debris of the woodland was kicked up behind him. His eyes fixed to the fleeing animal while his nose flared to capture the scent of fear on it.

Much to the dark wolf’s surprise, he managed to close his teeth on the weasel and end its life.

Heavy in his breath, Crowfeather looked to see if Sandy had found success in his hunt.

We did it, Sandy, he mumbled through his prey, certain that the other man had caught his target, too.

A chuckle lit up his maw and he shook his head. No you did it. I missed mine.

There was a pleasant laugh in his eyes, and he was not bothered in the least. He shrugged an athletic shoulder and moved onward. 

You did well.

Sandy put his nose back to the ground, he'd continue searching. Perhaps he'd get one, perhaps not. it didn't matter, it was a lesson being taught today, and Sandy was not one to take it to personal.

Here.

The weasel was offered to the other man. Crowfeather did not need it. He was lean and fit. Muscles had reformed and grown in his figure since their trip from Mereo. The time he’d spent getting to know Riverclan’s home had helped to keep him strong. He hadn’t considered that he felt… good. It had been such a long time since he had been confident in hunting, in running.

There was a- not really a rule… a code in my homeland. The clan must be fed before feeding yourself. It was how we looked out for each other. Even the injured could eat when there were hunters looking to fill caches and keep their bellies satisfied. Crowfeather wished to take this tradition and adopt it in Riverclan.

Besides, I would like another try, I think.

A small smile found his narrow snout.

Sandy didn't really need the meal either, he had always been on the thinner side. A lean creature built for hunting, and running. But he understood and accepted the gift with grace. Crow had done well, truthfully he had.

Sandy chuckled. Then I suppose it's a good thing you recruited a hunter. Isn't it. 

His warm yellow eyes met the others and he dipped his muzzle down. Then let's try again.

Long black body leaned into the wind as he moved through the lands, intent upon another weasel trail. He'd catch these ones he hoped. Besides it was always good to have more than one creature they could fill caches.

Sandy agreed to another try. Crowfeather felt his heart soar at the prospect of building his hunting skills again. It felt like he had let his abilities wither away, tucked in the dark corners where they would never be seen. It was nice to stretch out, to feel that his legs had not forgotten how swift they were. The weasel he had secured in their hunt was a reminder that there was still hope.

Crowfeather dug up a small storage for the animal he’d captured and turned to Sandy with an intent expression.

Weasels again?

The shadow wondered if the other man would like to try something different. No matter their target, the tripod was eager to be hunting.

Sandy wasn't privy to the inside thoughts of Crow, but he seemed excited to continue hunting. So the dark wolf was more than willing to please. Help out and keep that smile on their leaders face.

Sandy chuckled. There's a rabbit trail too. I'm afraid I haven't tracked the deer herd yet to see who birthed, and whose ready to be taken. I'll make sure I do that in the next few days.

Sandy shifted his position and instead of weasels turned towards the rabbit, though he stopped at a new smell. He had to think about it. Didn't recognize it at first.

There's also groundhog this way. Though they can be tricky little things.

Let’s try for the groundhogs, Crowfeather confirmed.

The shadow nodded to the other man so that Sandy could lead them on the trail. This time, Crowfeather made certain that they didn’t depart until the other man had gotten himself something to eat. When they had caught enough for the both of them, the two sat and enjoyed their food and each other’s company.