Deepwood Weald while I burst into flames

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What he saw gave him some hope, but the man's stone heart did not beat with any warmth as he took sight of the wiry boy. There was movement beyond the glen; a flash of gold, a muffled cry of indignation, and Njal assumed the boy had failed in his pursuit. He shifted his weight away from his aching hind as he took stride, creeping out from the dark with a heave of his tired body. Njal's grizzled face rose so that his eyes could follow the boy's antics, but he did not need to watch for long. The faraway hunter had indeed failed in his attempt, and now looked to the woodland where Njal had been hiding, clearly curious.

While there was something odd about the boy, the old man could hardly identify it. He noted the tapering of his muzzle, the rangy figure, and did think vaguely of his ex-wife — but almost as soon as his mind touched upon that subject it resisted, and he snorted softly, as if to expell the very thought of her. Njal sagged as he walked, concluding his short trek when he was nearer to the boy, but was not so inviting as to inspect his scent. In this time of trials wolves would be venturing far afield, and Njal hardly cared where his present company originated.

He did glance from the boy to the small pit where the target had escaped, and with a surly ennui presented some grave commentary:
First time using those legs, boy?