Morningside Cuesta morning glory

The mention of caribou made his ears perk. One day, he hoped, he'd be able to gather a group of four—maybe five or six—men, and they could take one down. Feast like kings. Like his father had. The thought stung in his mind for a moment before he spoke. Maybe some extra teeth would be helpful. he smiled.

A deer sounds good, does it not? Drag it back to the creek, maybe. Blueberry—that was one of the deer mothers, right? and then he quickly remembered that she had passed. The new leader, though, have you given him a name? He'd still his body, then. Tilting forwards, though. A silent gesture to suggest movement. To lead towards the deer herd Fred spoke of, perhaps.

Hunger rumbled deep within his stomach. He wondered who of their packmates would also enjoy a meal. All of them, probably. He hoped, at least.