Hoshor Plains the remembering

i am thankful that this pack has driven me down the bison research rabbit hole

Fjall gave a nervous sort of chuckle at the coltish chiding, but he wasn’t too attentive to Arktos at that time. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve been hyper-focused on the man, basking in every scrap of attention thrown his way, but all of his senses were trained towards The Herd now. Anxious to see that which his imagination could not conjure.

It’d barely registered to him that they now stood over the half-eaten groundhog before Arktos had commanded him to eat and keep still. Dry-mouthed, the wallflower obeyed. He scarfed down the supple leftovers, tasting little of it as he peered about owlishly in anticipation. Giving his jaws a quick lick, his head snapped towards the closest sound yet, and his pulse quickened until—

O Fearsome One, he breathed, heart stopping for several long beats as he took in the tall, broad colossus that ambled into view. It was mud-colored and hunchbacked, with thick woolly fur, a boulder of a skull, and a pair of stubby horns nearly hidden on its tufted head. More followed, plodding along and picking through the grasses, until he had lost count.

Fjall could barely contain his enthusiasm. These must be bison! Though he spoke excitedly, he seemed to remember to keep his voice down, lest he spook the creatures. Despite this caution, he could not stop the fast waving of his tail. I-I-I’ve only heard stories, he effused, breathless. They’re incredible! His entire body quivered, fear evaporated as he now stood practically face to face with a creature he’d thought of as near mythical.

Is this the male herd, then? he asked with fanatic enthusiasm, addressing the fact that Arktos had called the biggest one “him”. I hear the female herds are even bigger in numbers, is that true? Are they nearby? He could hardly quiet down long enough to hear the answers.