Without even stopping to check if the female had slipped away or decided to follow, the male trotted ahead, his long, thin limbs breaking through the soft layers of snow covering the rocky terrain ahead. Even if she had decided to leave, Ciervo's hunger wouldn't so with or without her he was determined to get something inside his belly.
To be honest, he would not have blamed her for wanting to leave. More often than not Ciervo had found his quirky behavior to be a problem when meeting others. A problem but not an impediment for the Ostrega to make friends; after all, the picky male had also realized that the few individuals that looked past his whimsical mannerisms were the only wolves he could bear with -- because the problem was not exactly finding wolves who liked him, but finding wolves he liked.
Astonishingly enough even after their brief exchange of words, he had begun to develop a liking, or tolerance, for the young girl -- who even more shockingly decided to follow. "Ciervo Ostrega" he barked without looking back at her, or asking her name in return. It was not important now. Not when their potential dinner, an average looking goat with matted fur and a chipped horn, laid ahead, grazing on the writhed grasses that remained between the rocks.
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