Sleepy Fox Hollow heiter

Anselm smiled at Mahler's fatherly jest; he was right, as he usually was.

As far as the dead elk went, it took time for Anselm to sift through the particles of scent that hit his nose. He tilted his head upwards, glistening nose taking in great big sniffs of the cold air.

At last he could parse the scent of cold snow, decay, and elk from one another. He studied the molars with a frown. It had never occurred to him to look at teeth to guess something's age. Here the dark molars were capped with earthy colored crowns - along their hooked ridges were caps and deposits of tartar. He wondered what his own teeth looked like - what about Mahler's? Were they as darkened and twisted as this old elk's?

Does that work for everything? Could I tell your age if I looked at your teeth, papa?