Barrow Fields cernunnos

In his recent weeks, he had been so bound to the claim itself that ranging beyond it--even just nearby like this pings as vaguely unusual until he shakes off the rust and gets into the groove of it. The prospect of their luck already tipping favorably today matched with a potential hunt does make it easy to get motivated, especially as the trail thickens and there is no mistaking they are on a good track.

When they finally can visualize their quarry, he glanced over his shoulder to the grayscale tagalong to feel him out (an unspoken question of potential and ability with it), then ahead once again to the real prize in the open landscapes ahead. The wocha could play these odds; potentially feeding so many mouths with a take-down like this was worth a chance.

He would like to get a little closer and observe them a little longer, but he didn't like the cost of too much time that implied--not with anticipation building fast. One in the middle kept catching his eye already, moving slower than its fellows. It was too early to get too attached, and he still skimmed the group as a whole only to be pinning his stare back on that one over again. Unless the others in their small party directed his attention elsewhere, that was where he hoped to find them all converge. Willingly, and once they were all most officially on the same page, he was prepared to take this to the next step: forward.