Moonspear Like an old-fashioned soft meats crown

He wasn't expecting a hunting partner, but that didn't mean Dragomir didn't appreciate the streak of dark grey that joined him on the path. Jarilo was an enigma to the youngster, a wolf whose scent was prevalent upon the mountain but whose face was rarely seen. He didn't attend the border meetings that Hydra and Arcturus could often be found at. Jarilo's presence was more elusive, a silent sort of sentinel, and Dragomir was pleased to meet the cool blue-green of the Gamma's eyes at last.

A low whoof was all the acknowledgement he gave to the roan hunter at his side. They coursed through the trees for a little while, pausing at another crossroads, where Dragomir bent to snuffle at the ground. Right, I think, he suggested, handing the reins to Jarilo for now to guide their next actions. He was an amateur hunter, after all, and even if Jarilo wasn't a master of it, he was more experienced than the juvenile.