Hushed Willows longing

When he saw the hunt's conclusion, and saw the hunter spy him so plainly, Silas remembered himself and splayed his ears out apologetically -- since really, this did seem kind of rude now that he thought about it to just suddenly appear and stare like that. The rest of his posture remained carefully below neutral. On the cusp of his own entry into the adult ranks, he was most at ease this way when he did not have the best of footing about his confidence yet. Perhaps with time he would learn better, but he believed that was his greatest obstacle. There was still so much for him to learn.

"Hi," he offered in return. His tail curved inward between his knees and he glanced continually between wolf and dead bird -- although now far more careful to avoid his gaze. "I'm Silas," he said alongside a quick, but firm nod. He didn't know how much he knew beforehand about him and his family -- the scattered pieces of it, his wounded mother, so the Ostrega was intending to focus on the present. "Is that hard to do?" he asked, gesturing his snout towards the avian prey and meaning the felling of it entirely.