Bearclaw Valley and heaven knows,

a soft nod, then, and he would turn away from her, testing the air. an unease lingered deep within his chest. a pit within his stomach that did not seem to leave him. scents drew towards him, and he drank them in. deer were nearby, but he did not feel the same confidence that had strengthened him last time. nonetheless, he would move, occasionally looking back to milan to see if she would follow.

its brown pelt was clear on the horizon, now, and he stalked towards it with a hunters grace, before it shifted, having sensed him and his smell. now, the ungulate dashed away, and frederick bounded after it, coiled muscles chasing after with a firm precision, letting the worries slip from his mind momentarily as he sought his prey.

close, now. he lunged forwards, teeth dragging it back, latched onto its leg. he hooked himself into the ground, then, stilling his body and keeping hold of the deer. each part of his body was firm ; his neck, shoulders, arms. his chest, his ribs, his back. legs, even his tail sat still between his hocks. but it broke free, then, and he continued. it was weak from the snows. and so he watched as it tripped over an exposed tree root.

the goliath made his move, then, dashing forwards to puncture its stomach. he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, forcing all thought asides from the meal out from his mind. he detached, then, before dashing for its neck. a moment, two moments passed before its eyes clouded over, falling limp. a pang of empathy struck him, but he pushed it aside.

he would call over milan with a soft woof, and would aid her in removing the pelt, should she request it. part of him truly hoped that she did ; that she wanted his help.