Moonspear he tests his might against what his eyes can't see

Hydra turned to him before beckoning him closer and gesturing toward the earth; a spot that she wished him to smell. Atlas frowned thoughtfully at the direction before stepping to where she had made note. The broad-shouldered pup glanced toward her from the corner of his eye, bent his neck, and breathed deeply in the aromas that lingered in that place. First, he scented the lingering trails of his packmates and family members – those who had passed over that precise location countless times. This confused him, but only for a moment before he caught wind of something entirely different. The newest smell was like a lure, and Atlas was eager for a bite.
 
“It is…,” he paused, searching for the words that would best describe the sudden shifting in scent trail. The dark child was not always fond of speaking, and frequently preferred to remain silent unless it was necessary to engage in avid conversation. Even then, he was not very good at it. The occasional muteness that he had adopted was a decision and not a dysfunction of his social ability. When he had allowed his sentence to trail on for far too long, Atlas frowned and settled on, “different,” for his descriptive word. Golden eyes shifted sharply toward her, peering from the corners of his vision.