Redtail Rise θ

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the hunt is on.

the other male is at his shoulder with an encouraging nose, much to nowke's indignation. he was no spring chicken and did not need guiding, and to him, he passes glacier eyes of quiet say so.

the scent of the doe is inhaled through flaring, wet-ringed nostrils by the redjaw. the hues of flame and scarlet move over his backside with his march, visible now with the abandonment of the bearskin within his den dugout.

he takes to the trail red dusk had pointed out, an inviting jerk of his head for the male to lead them forwards.

strong legs move him down the slope and into the new and open terrain after him, where snowfall has melted away under the glaring sun. his dark mask surveys and those pointed, blue eyes find where the doe has just fled again into the treeline.

brush disturbed, he grins yellow and he flags his tail for red dusk and the wealda to look.