Moonspear the notes of a strained refrain

As Atlas started forward, Dirge fell into step alongside him and let silence fill the space between. There was much to gain from this opportunity; it pleased him that Atlas had lit up at the prospect, and he wished he had been more forthright in telling him why he wanted him out there in the first place. He could have rounded up Osiris too, but the father had taken notice of how his son seemed taken with the girl he had brought back from Easthollow. It intrigued him to see such a thing happen and he had thought better of disrupting their routine this time.

Dirge thought Atlas to be a bit more like his brother Antares; both were shades in their own right like their mother, swiftly adhering to whatever whim seemed appropriate. Had he been a bit more vain, he may have thought their cunning to have come from him rather than her. They were sharp-eyed but Atlas was a touch more eager in many areas. A little competition had never hurt anyone, though this too Dirge kept a close eye on.

“Altair told me you two went hunting the other day,” he said some time later, having not quite spotted the herd. They had moved on from where he had seen them last and the pair would have to pick up their trail when they reached that avenue. “He boasted about this and that, made it into an epic tale and the like—how did he do?” His tail tip curled ever so slightly, as he was curious of this too—it seemed the majority of his children enjoyed the hunt as he did.