Blacktail Deer Plateau in hearts we are guaranteed a victory

Even as the heavy weight of his personal grief mixed with the thick mantle of the morning fog to simply create a greater sense of weight above the platinumn Ollivander's back, it was with quick movements that he pulled himself from the secluded resting spot he had chosen overnight. As he pulled himself up from the ground, the moisture of the dew drops, still freshly laid upon the layer of grass clung to his  coat, giving him a glimmering cape that would just wear off once he began to run.

And so he did.
With little more than a stretch and a yawn, the Ollivander took off in the direction of the other man's call. While he was not acquaintained with him in particular, it was with no hesitation that the slicked-back, groomed man attended his call.
A hunt was a hunt regardless of who summoned it, and with death clinging so closely to his mind perhaps it would be killing what would precisely serve to take him out of his sad reverie.

With his paws moving softly, and silently over the fresh grasses Finn arrived at the scene, noting that once again he was the first on spot. He slinked around a bush, keeping his tail at a neutral stance and his olive eyes on the man as he approached him, an slightly crooked smile taking over his lips as he finally came to a stop in front of him.
"Came to help -- Finn Ollivander, nice to meet ya" he barked quickly, his voice gruff and raspy betraying the fact that he had been lately, if not recently, keeping quiet. 
Grief did that.
Pain, and exhaustion took a toll.

But never one Finn, the prideful, trouble-bottling man, would refuse to pay.
"What's the plan?" he asked then, allowing for the first time since arriving at the spot, his nose to make its own assessment.