Bramblepoint red-hawk for dinner

Delos had been left to sleep beneath a thick bush against the base of a tree, though he was wide awake. At six months he was old enough to be following his mother on her hunts, and he would for the rare times they came across prey after the sun had fell.

He was oblivious to the stranger and his odd companion who had joined them under the canopy, the only sounds reaching him being the leafs that occasionally rustled next to his right ear. It was difficult for him not to feel some sense of nerves settling in nonetheless; familiarity was what he preferred, and his mother's wish to travel brought anything but that. All Delos really wanted was to return home to Verapaz.