Emberwood hellbender

It didn’t surprise them to hear that he scavenged more than hunted, though Masquerade could scarcely conceptualize such an existence. Although he looked older, he appeared to be in reasonably good health. He carried no scent of illness or injury, indicating his disfigurements were likely old battle scars. The yearling had the sense they could probably learn a lot from him.

But first things first: he introduced himself, his surname causing a look of surprise to flash across Masque’s face. They were a Redtail, of course, and they’d just met Riley, a Redpath. Here was a Redhawk. Were they all connected somehow or was it some peculiar coincidence?

I’m Masque Redtail, they offered in turn, wondering if the similarities would pique his interest too. Are you a loner, then? they wondered, piecing together the contextual clues from his mention of “happening by generous packs.”

If he was on his own, the Ulfr definitely wanted to pick his brain. How did he survive, especially handicapped like he was? What did he eat if he couldn’t come by any meat? What happened if got hurt or sick? Was he lonely? Masquerade had no desire to lead such a life, yet they found it fascinating all the same. Surely it required all sorts of life skills, some of which Phox might be able to pass along.