Moonspear i should live in salt

His brow creased, concentrating. Landslides were a real threat, perhaps one of their most sizable ones here on the heights, though he had not come across any signs of them--big or small yet. Best to keep it that way. Spared so far.. at least, if the rain keeps coming, he grumbled a bit. Then: The creeks are bigger than I've ever seen before, he made a mention of, hoping as well that they would not swell to the point of washing away anything they shouldn't. Just more matters to keep an eye out for, however.

Coincidentally, swamplands made him think of Bronco already thanks to him teaching him the strange term swamp donkey for moose. His ears had already been up tall, but to find the earthy yearling tying in deeper did interest him. Would make sense, he supposed, about intruders coming here to seek high ground. It was an obvious choice and difficult to miss. But, so were their marked boundaries, for even with all this washout, he did often find them pretty tended. It was not like they were slaking just because of a little rainshower. I have met him, the dark brother nodded easily. We patrolled a bit. Talked about sparring in the future, and hunts too--though that's not as eventful as chasing out a bear, he smirked over his shoulder, wondering if there were more details to have there, or if the visitor had gone on its way without issue.

He mentioned wanting to do a mountain goat hunt, since I brought them up. After the rains hopefully, of course, but before the snows come, he decided was a good place to hint at this forming plan. Of course, he still had to make sure the idea had any merit with those who knew where the goats could be hunted best in the first place. It was one of their trickier finds, after all.