King Elk Forest Tinker Tailor, Soldier Sailor

Nope, don't mind at all!

The old bones of the cranky man followed his son with long, slow steps as they traveled into what seemed like a wasteland. There was hardly any green left, the treetops were now see-through and the smell of prey was weak. If the old stumper was alone right now, he wouldn't have mind it all that, but now he had his family with him. Sure, he wasn't the leader of the group anymore, but deep down inside his shattered heart he still cared. He kept quiet for most of the trip toward (hopefully) better days, just barely keeping up with his son's much younger and fitter body.

But alas, the silence couldn't last forever. Well, isn't that fitting? He commented in a hoarse voice. If he would've been in his son's place, he would've fought the damned wolves who had dared to threaten them. Sometimes he didn't understand Giancarlo's thought process. Yes, the enemy was with more, but they had wolves with way more experience in life as a whole. He snorted softly as he came to a halt. He thought they'd seen enough to say that living here would be hard.

He sighed at his son's words. That it's either getting ripped to shreds back home or this. Personally, I'd go for the latter, I'm too old to die. He spoke grumpy with just a pinch of dark humor.