Bitterroot Valley Exit, Pursued by a Bruised Ego

South-east, huh? Barrett thought to whatever might be south-east, turning his head ever-so-slightly towards where that area may be, though not straying too far from looking towards the path.
There other packs out here? He murmured, mainly talking to himself.

But, when the air drew thicker with elk-musk, Barrett turned his eyes forwards, ears swivelling like antenna to pick up the hoof-beat and bellow of any bull & cow. How would he strike them? Barrett blinked for just a moment, searching for something within him, something new; something deeply instinctual.
Break 'em apart, came low, rugged voice. Quiet, as to not alert the herd nearby. Not yet. Strongest ones'll be out front, protectin' the others, gave a nod forwards. Looked to Sega for a moment. Weaker ones in the cen'er, so, we divide the herd. Take 'em quick. Scare 'em so they run—tire 'em.
He looked away, then. Back to the herd. Least, that's how I'd do it. Make the death quick. She don't need'a be in any pain, his final words were... gentle.

Almost... kind.