Moonspear maybe in time

Altair did well, searching out the scents on his own. Atlas was pleased to know that good hunting seemed to run in their blood. He could hope that his own children would have the noses of the other Ostrega wolves; they’d surely never starve. When his younger brother offered his guess, the dark yearling smiled warmly and nodded his head. Lowering his crown, the shade made eye contact with Altair and glanced in their immediate vicinity with a curious mischief in the way he moved.
 
“Now that you smell them, you have a starting point,” he said with a confident nod. “Now, where did the rabbit go from here? How about the bird?”
 
The skills to pick up a scent were necessary to survive in the environments they endured. To feed their pack and their family, it was a requirement that none could fail. The ability to hone that proficiency and expand on it was what made for a standout hunter. Yes, finding the scent was important… but keeping that scent and being able to follow it across numerous terrains, that was an art.