It had been many days now since he had eaten. The last thing Amon remembered feasting upon was an old elk carcass, and even that had been less than scraps - probably a few weeks old itself. The meager amount of meat he had stripped from the body was still deteriorating in his gut, most likely. The taste of weather-hardened skin was something Amon would happily do without, now that he was a part of a pack.
The first order of business which lay before him was, introductions. He had stumbled upon one wandering lady (young Siv, if he remembers correctly) and was now seeking out others. The caldera descended before him, forming the natural bowl which had so captivated the Redhawk wolves. Amon paused to survey the incline before him, watching the ground as if waiting for it to move. It didn't, but... Something moved across it.
Instantly the man tried to crouch, and in his own lumbering manner he advanced upon the position of whatever it was that had caught his attention. The rocky terrain was difficult to traverse while trying to remain stealthy. But he made it to a cluster of rocks and boulders, which then became his cover. With a peek of his nose around the rocks he took a great whiff -- and identified the targets swiftly.
Turkeys. A cluster of very fat males, a few more petite females... All of them catching Amon's attention and making him salivate. What was the best way to hunt turkey? It'd be difficult for the aging man to catch one of the fatter ones without assistance, but... He also couldn't call for help without spooking the entire huddled flock.