Overture Downs soft light

Renard, unlike their companion in poorly thought-out stealth, had no real compunctions about leaving the shelter of the tree. They did, however, think that it was only polite not to ruin what had clearly been a nice morning of… watching bison.

It seemed they already had, though, considering how directly she was staring at them.

“You’ve never seen them yourself?” they repeated as she wiggled herself back under the log, tail waving frantically in the air. This was all well and good for her, but for once Renard was actually the larger wolf (physically, presumably not morally) in this matchup, and they were not keen to get themselves wedged under a fallen tree today. Or ever.

Renard stepped a bit closer, but anyway you cut it it was difficult to hold a conversation with someone when all you could see of them was their butt. They settled onto their haunches instead and peered through the tangle of branches out at the peacefully grazing bison, who appeared to have stopped caring they were there again.

A field of bison wasn’t that strange a sight, but…she seemed barely more than a kid, and they didn’t go around raining on everyone’s wide-eyed and excited parades for fun. At least when the conversation revolved entirely around sightseeing a herd of bison. So instead of it’s hardly anything like that, they chuckled. “What stories have you heard?”