Blackbeak Bluff Casser une Jambe

Trophies were clutter. In this case, a trophy would mark a job half-done. As he saw it, this whole interaction was unnecessary, and something told him his mother would feel the same way. But he was here, so he would help his brother, to whichever extent left him unscathed. 

His ears swung toward the new voice, followed soon after by his muzzle. It was grating, unfinished. It made his lips curl. 

"Well, you'd better get to warning them." he said, turning back towards his brother.