Moonspear Like an old-fashioned soft meats crown

Jarilo only meandered his way along, but a solid purpose kept him going forward all to the same result. He found it easy enough to lay low here in the cover of the woods--most days, anyway, and fresh fox tracks gave him something tangible to work on. With the season afoot, and his sister's words (all of them, her praise included) fresh in his head, he persisted, and held fast to his diligence in exchange for the grating nerves of restlessness.
 
That did not make him immune, however, and neither did this leave him in a perfect place. A functioning one, perhaps, but he was wound tight and feeling very distracted. His gait was shorter than usual, and he simply did not know how to feel.. let alone process it properly when his nose caught the faintest of whiffs and he had to be reminded of the whole overarching consequence once again. Irritating.

Still.. he angled into the fox's trail differently than Dragomir, and realized his thread through the woods more than anything so far. While not a fox, his hopes were far from dashed; the dark Ostrega drew in closer, though kept his motion going with a soft chuff to say hello on his way. He knew enough of what was going on here, and admittedly, the youth looked far more keen to the trek than he was--but that was good news. Jarilo tried to relax out his posture, swing his tail, and simply enough, suggest they make this a dual venture.

The trail was getting fresher, honestly, and he knew better than to underestimate Hydra's charge.