King Elk Forest Tinker Tailor, Soldier Sailor

Primo kept a stoic and grumpy face as his son snorted, not that amused by his own jokes. He played with a small stone with his paw as he watched Giancarlo be all down in the dumps. Boo-hoo, so they stumbled upon a wasteland, how bad could it be? It wouldn't help anyone to change direction now, for who knew how far the things that did this damage had spread. Maybe they were lucky the insects were gone already, now it wouldn't take long for the green to return. They say that when the first generation of something has vanished, the next generation could grow stronger. He hoped it counted for wolves as well...

That's the spirit. The old man said, rolling his eyes slightly. He meant his comment, though it was kind of cheesy for him to admit it happy peppy. Instead, he lay down, his slightly muscled frame hitting the ground with his side with a thump. Aaaah, that's better... His voice rumbled as he stretched himself out.

He watched his son with a side eye, inspecting a half-dead tree. Yeah, that was going to help them, totally. He let out a soft snort again, one that probably wasn't loud enough for Giancarlo to hear. A plague of any kind of insect that eats plants. He replied dryly. It didn't matter what kind of insect it had been to him.