Deepwood Weald while I burst into flames

It was true. Valtyr never had a proper upbringing and this fact was reflected in his sloppy hunting style. As a young cub, he had been sheltered by the wolves of Blacktail Deer Plateau, but shortly after he had set off east past Teekon and leapfrogged from pack to pack. Always the outlyer, Valtyr fell into the roll of foil for other, more ambitious, members of the pack. Which was fine by him, for the most part. He was a collected creature and hardly made a fuss when more comandeering wolves ordered him to do this or that. The Fen was different, though. It was more familial than he was accustomed to... and because more resposbility to provide weighed on his shoulders, the gaps in Valtyr's primal education only grew. He could mostly get by on small game. Yet, the dire circumstances worked against him and, when paired with his bad technique, cotinued to line him up for failure. So, when the old greybeard heckled him, Valtyr could only murmur a "wha d'ya mean, properly?"

The Sveijarn was half curious, half indignant, as he watched from his seat. The stranger did a number of odd things. He looked into the distance and then into the hole. Valtyr couldn't help but be soured, thinking to himself 'old crazy man.' However, he kept these thoughts to himself and simply sighed an exasperated harumph as he observed the more seasoned huter.