Honeyed Pasture keep your heads held high.

The field spread wide open around them as the light-coated duo splintered off from the main camp, setting out to hunt for the group--a decidedly important task with so many with them on this trek. It was truthfully more mouths to feed than he had anticipated, but in true Drakru fashion, they were adaptable, and strong. Together they were all making good time towards the south anyway and everything had gone on, undisturbed. His outlook was still quite favorable and energy good, although a nice meal would just make it better for the next leg of the journey that would steer them further inland.

He breathed deep, smelling that distinctly autumnal crispness to the golden grasses and a smattering of other scents, both pertinent and not scattered throughout as they tracked. He was thankful for no other pack presences catching his eye or nose, though, but he was still keenly on watch as together they ranged further out still. Now knowing what he did about Arlo's end (and hell, possibly Wildfire's), he'd trust no one not of their own lot. He would not be having the same befall any others, especially not Artaax while out under his own watch.

The wocha went skimming his sights over to find his companion hunter, and truthfully, among the softly swaying golden grasses, he fit in. Dio woofed a low, soft note to catch his attention without a large commotion. When he had it, he asked with a hush to his voice: "Any good leads?"