Dragoncrest Cliffs i don't love being the person who hides in the garage with her secret crib turkey.

Artaax hesitated briefly when he sensed another had joined his hunt. He glanced around until he spotted a dark shape in the trees - one he knew to be his nomi. His tail wagged softly for a moment before he continued along, gliding along through the trees parallel to his new hunting partner. There was no opportunity to give her more of a greeting than the small wave of his tail - he'd just picked up a scent.

He paused to inspect the brush further, his notrils working furiously as he moved his muzzle to and fro over the fronds. He took a few steps forward to the next patch of brush and began to sniff his way through that bush as well until he found a few feathers stuck in the shrub's thin branches. Artaax stood then, looking ahead through the trees for a moment or two, just listening. And then he was moving again, crouching low and trying to keep as silent as possible in case the grouse were nearer than he believed them to be.