Firefly Glen zeal without knowledge is a runaway horse

The Glen had kept the yearling busy. There was much ground to cover, and a lot to see. As their group grew and shifted, too, it was feeling like it was always something, somewhere, at some time. Antares was seeing firsthand all the work it took to establish something--even on the hearty foundations their family gave them to build upon, it was still no small feat, and rarely a dull moment.

Today, after the recharge of an afternoon nap, he had yet to rejoin any of his brothers. His progress would go solo for now, it seemed, and he didn't feel overly inclined to change this as he threaded through the quiet autumnal scene. Though their company was all to exactly his tastes, and he cherished prowling and hunting with his packmates out here, he could slip off into a venture all of his own just as well.

All the same, his walk had come to skim along their edges, ears tall, and eyes peeled. So far, nothing pinged as extraordinary, and the wind spoke him no favors yet. He gave half a pause to sniff an old smell on the ground, but kept on his way after deciding it didn't interest either.