Little Goat Mountain Devils and Dust

Artok gave a saucy wink in reply, a smirk curling along the sides of his maw. He tilted his head and gave a nod, as he eyed them. Quickly calculating and figuring out their best move.

Golden eyes fell on one, two possible targes a old ewe and a middle aged male, he'd reckon. Probably still well worth his salt, if not a little slow. He nodded towards the male.

Pincer like. Separate him from the herd. Watch the hooves and the horns. Try and stay away from both. Vitals if you can. Don't overstretch yourself. We don't need injuries.