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Glaukos was worn out by the end of it all. The hunt had gone well; it was the ferrying of little corpses that became a struggle. He was tired of trailing back and forth across the territory to get the work done, so when it was complete he was happy to be finished. He needed no pelt for himself, either.

When the Imperator departed Glaukos watched with a weary gaze, clearly needing a rest but not quite finished. Tamar was there; she looked how he felt, perhaps a touch put-off by how morbid the pile had become. Flies buzzed around some of the bloodier kits, and more than one vixen was crushed in a way that would make the pelt's recovery too much of a hassle.

The best had gone with Germanicus. Glaukos could have chosen for himself too, and moved as if to do that; then at the last moment, piled those bodies to the side and decided, no, he wasn't after a reward. He wanted to wash the fox stink from his body.

With a brief glance to Tamar, he left.