Northstar Vale Echoes of ephasia have haunted you tonight

It was settled, then. After they'd found their kill and rallied the pack to it, Dagfinn and Saena would keep careful vigil for any signs of the buck. Until then, it was swept from her mind as easily as old dust bunnies. Dagfinn's concern should've registered more clearly with Saena, and she should've felt more responsible for ensuring that the possible risk of the buck was taken care of, but she was hungry and unwilling to believe that a mere buck could cause a wolf pack much trouble.

The scent of blood permeated the air as they broke away from the mountains proper, and Saena licked her lips as Dagfinn explained his own background in hunting. "What are reindeer?" she wondered, feeling as though she'd never seen such a creature before. The very name confused her: was it a deer that only came out in the rain? Did it rain on the tundra? These were all questions that Saena, a more southern-y creature, could not begin to guess at the answers to.

"You handled yourself commendably for your first hunt away from home," she complimented him; she'd have thought Dagfinn was a master and not a relatively untried wolf who had only hunted with the support of his family. A family of wolves could read each other so well that their joint movements were like a well oiled machine, and the hunt was easiest with them. Strangers hunting together often had much poorer results, but Dagfinn could have passed for family any day, and that alone made his future as a hunter seem very promising.