Moonspear he tests his might against what his eyes can't see

The scent of prey was far more appealing than that of his kin. Atlas raised his crown and squinted against the sharp glare of the snow on the earth. She had requested that he do what he could to track it. The stoic expression was almost humorous for his age, but it was far from a façade. The thin-lipped regard for the land that stretched out from beneath where they stood was unreadable. For several long moments, the dark mountaineer did not move from his place. The boy was savoring the scent of prey and what it meant; there was that hopeful premise of quelling the hunger in his gut. Even though he could not determine just how large this creature was, his hopes created a spurring of motivation.
 
Without warning, the dark child allowed for his limbs to carry him forward. He bent his neck and sniffed at the earth, hoping that he could draw the same honey-warm smell back to his palette. It was far more difficult than he had imagined it to be. Atlas attempted to separate the trails, hoping to narrow down his search, but the challenge was too great for him at that age. The dark titan prowled forward with a frown and a huff of air through widened nostrils. Then, he turned his head back to where Hydra had been, and he frowned with disappointment. Just as his lips parted so that he could request assistance, a touch of the wind carried that same alluring smell.
 
The gold of his gaze was pulled from his mother’s figure and he cantered to the south, grasping at his attempts to maintain that tang of prey.