Dawnlark Plains pretend you know this song

He didn't bother replying to the man. Hunger stifled his willingness to even think about making conversation. Tahoe lifted his head, his eyes stoically panning the grasses ahead. Ears pricked, he lumbered forth, his attention clearly focused upon something. A small gathering of ice had been disturbed, fractured by an animal who had impetuously stepped on it. McBride had nearly reached it when Alejandro called to him. He exhaled, peering over his shoulder to see what his companion had found. The indomitable beams of sunlight battled his eyes, forcing him to squint. Through his slitted gaze, he managed to somewhat identify what Alejandro had pointed out—half based on assumption, thanks to his previous discovery. Tahoe gave a hasty nod of acknowledgement, then wordlessly turned, going ahead to investigate the other footprint he had located. Surely the spotted man would get the message.