Dawnlark Plains currant

The question he asked was meaningless.  Avicus, Wealda, mother, was gone and buried now.  Redd pointedly remained on the hunt, only a small flick of her ears revealing that she had heard him speak at all.  Wealda was both name and title.  None but Avicus had ever held it truly and Redd wondered if any ever would.  It was no longer her concern.

She lost the appetite for conversation entirely then, but fortunately, their prey was drawing closer.  Judging by scent it was a young doe.  They might succeed if they took it by surprise, though in a chase she did not think they would outlast it.  Especially if it rejoined others.

Redd slowed as she tried to pinpoint a location and make as little noise as possible.  She glanced to Cambria to see if he recognized what must happen, then to Ruckus to warn the pup to remain back.  The child was smart but fierce.  She would see them learn, but this was not a hunt for them yet.