Moonspear the notes of a strained refrain

Atlas spoke and Dirge found his gaze snapping back to the herd, scanning through it until he found the weak-legged doe milling about with them. He made an appraising note as he watched her, concluding with himself that she may have been worth splintering off from the group to take down. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to do with the right amount of wolves with proficiency, and luckily for them Moonspear did happen to have a decent pool of able-bodied hunters to choose from.

“Good eye,” he praised then. “I was also considering some of the younger ones in their group. Late born babes, assured enough to know when danger’s close to run, but perhaps not as steady in their resolve as their adult counterparts.” Though grown and fully capable of eluding them, Dirge wanted to play on their ability to be spooked and run down just as much as he wanted to pick at the lame and meek. Either or would be a good fit for who they could muster to hunt.

“This information will please your mother too,” he went on.