Kildeer Rest This Race Is a Prophecy

He heard the man before his eyes found his shape. Uncle Brewster. It was one, perhaps not one of the ones he'd rather see, but it was something. The two had never been super close despite direct blood lineage, but what would you expect from someone with cool browns like he? It threatened his own devotion. Though again, a Déorwine is a Déorwine.

Calhoun chuffed in response as red eyes fell to the burns along the other's pelt. It seemed out of the two he had been the luckier, but Cal could thank the High Elk for that. Surely it was no coincidence. How many times must I tell you old man? Don't call me boy, I have a name. Eyes flashed to meet his uncle's with a glare though it would soften slightly. Praise the High Elk that we are not alone...have you seen any others, Uncle? The fact that he was alone spoke enough, but perhaps he had been left behind. It would not matter if they traveled together, they would all end up wherever the elk be.