Silvertip Mountain after dark

Tonravik followed him, keeping a slight distance between them so that she could watch him work. He moved upon the terrain expertly, which pleased her. One less thing to teach. Tonravik had known the scent she had noted was goat; but Toothless had found it, and found it swiftly. Although they had moved on many different trails, Tonravik understood that the goats had been there longer than either of them had. It would have taken her likely the same amount of time. What she had wanted to see was if he was capable; and he was.

She moved toward his side now, gazing upon their quarry that was now in sight. Perked ears did not so much as move as her trained gaze remained upon them, utterly still. It was alone, and her eyes sought the herd... ah, there they were. Higher than it, climbing quietly in search for their favorite area to eat vegetation or perhaps just to sleep. Tonravik looks to the distance, wondering if Skyfall would join them. She howls again, so he would know where they were; and then she looks to Toothless, a short, quick nod.

Crouching, Tonravik stalks forward. Toothless could be the speed. Could scare it from its makeshift, lonely roost. Test it, be sure that this was the one that would die; for it might very well be strong enough to escape the both of them, in which case they would go for another member of the herd. But Tonravik prepared. For the kill.