Flycatcher Downs the veldt

tey’gan moved through the open fields with purpose, though the weight in his chest was not so easily shaken. the land here was vast, unfamiliar—stretching beyond what his eyes could see, golden grasses swaying in the wind like an ocean caught in a storm.
his siblings were not here.
his ears flicked, scanning the horizon, eyes sharp as they cut across the rolling plains. he had tracked them this far, but the trail had grown weak, scattered like dust in the breeze. frustration gnawed at him, though he did not let it show—he was made of patience, of discipline, of strength. if they were here, he would find them.
his path took him closer to a figure seated in the grass. tey’gan slowed, nostrils flaring as he took in her scent—unfamiliar. not one of his.
still, she did not seem a threat.
he studied her for a moment, the way she idly groomed herself, absorbed in the task. it was a casual thing, unconcerned, like she had all the time in the world. he did not.
stepping closer, his voice was low, steady.
have you seen others like me? his accent curled through the words, his tone edged with quiet intensity. three of them. my blood.