Hideaway Strath That's All Right, I Love The Way It Hurts

A howl sounds out through the area. Kynareth is easily able to decipher exactly who it belongs to — his Paladin, Nyra. The pale beast calls for the Saints and he can’t help but raise a curious brow at the beckon. Of course, he wastes no time in making his way there regardless of why she called. So he’s pushing himself into overdrive as he begins into a sprint, eventually slowing and stopping next to the few of his pack mates that arrived before him.

His black tongue hangs out of his maw to cool himself despite the chill and his sun like orbs flick to each of them. His Overseer, Hemlocke, and Nyra are the only ones on the scene at the moment and he fully expects the others to participate as well. 

Though as he pads to the other side to stand next to Nyra, he intentionally brushes their shoulders as he slinks in beside her. His hues scouting the horizon and spotting ungulates that make his mouth water with the anticipation of a hard earned meal and his heart beats faster at the promise of a hunt.

“You’ve called for a hunt then, dear.” He hums beside her, a proud smile on his maw. “I’m much too happy to oblige.”