Hushed Willows sugar magnolia

He nodded, gathering the gist of what his son was suggesting. It was enough to get a smile to spread evenly across his face for a moment, a prideful moment that one of his own happened to be finding a particular niche they were comfortable in. If nothing else it meant that at least for all they had been through over that year, not all was a disaster. He had worried that with everything that had happened they would be so ill-adjusted to the world that things would be infinitely difficult... but perhaps not, after all.

"You will," he went on to say. "Like any skill, you have to practice it. Tracking, hunting small game, even if it all ends in failure... you learn something." Most of which he hoped would come naturally to Silas, if it hadn't already. He knew his son was particularly suited for hunting even without him saying anything—word travelled nonetheless. Mordecai had seen glimpses and glimmers of such, though they hadn't hunted anything on their own just yet.