Hushed Willows WindChill

The coywolf walked on springs it seemed. Kyrell couldn't contain an amused curl to his lips.

Well met, Dusty Rose. My name's Kyrell Woodstalker. The second, to be specific.

He hummed thoughtfully at the coywolf's following question. It was a good question.

Truthfully? That's something we're still learning. It's a bit an amalgamation of habitats here. The sunspire mountains, a willow marsh, a conifer forest, even the sunburst glade supported varied trees from the rest of the territory. It was a confused stretch of land, by all accounts.

Hearthwood's a shiny new community, and shortly after we properly founded our claim here, the majority of us left to participate in a bison hunt across the mountains with several other packs. He quickly glanced over his shoulder to Dusty, to find the man's gaze firmly fixated elsewhere. He stared at the side of Dusty's face for several seconds before looking back down the trail. Boone's probably done the most exploring and tracking in regards to the fauna here, but the boss man's out of commission, as you know.

Kyrell's redirected his gaze from the trail to the tracks they were following. The hoofprints were mildly distorted by the deep snow. Either blown over by the wind or simply having been kicked into the tracks as the animal walked. He watched his own paws for several strides, comparing them in length to animal they were following. By his own approximated measure, the print was comparable to his own paw. Perhaps a doe or even a young animal?

From what I can make out from the trail I think this will be a whitetail. We're closer to the marsh than the mountains and my understanding of mule deer is that they prefer open fields over trees and wetlands.

His smile remained upon his features yet a nagging worry whispered in the back of his skull. Did they have anyone else to help if he was wrong? His eyes landed upon Dusty as the coywolf remained in his periphery. He did not want to have dragged the man out in this weather for nothing.