Silvertip Mountain You Follow me i'll do my best

with his heart beat thudding in his ears like a surefire war drum, kivaluk follows rodyn's lead, crouching down to peer above the dried and dying heather grasses, ignoring the soft tickle of them as they brush against his muzzle.

he releases thought and settles into instinct.

rodyn charges and kivaluk takes off, mentally picturing how they might close in on it: now that rodyn's chosen quarry is selected and known by kivaluk.

separate it. keep it away from anywhere it can climb.

the herd scatters; frightened: a symphony of hooves beating the earth. but aside from dodging a frightened lost goat, he keeps his focus locked on their quarry: teeth snapping for flesh, hoping to incapacitate it so it would be an easy kill.