Witch's Marsh prorsus

Out of low-level submission and ever-growing respect, Ico hung back so that Germanicus could eat first. It was his kill after all, and one that Ico would remember for some time. But having not eaten for a day, he did not hesitate long when invited forward, and took a delicate bite from the decimated hare, pulling out a few strands of sinew and enjoying the meat. To his blushing surprise, some of the best parts of the animal were still remaining; but Ico took only a modest amount nonetheless. As he ate, he thought of those wise words, and how often he wished he could be taught skills he was judged for lacking.

And he was very conscious of their close proximity, alert to how tall Germanicus stood in his peripheral vision, and how rich his fur was under the high sunlight. Ico felt a tingling of nerves around the nape of his neck.

He swallowed, and looked up to see the older male gazing at the horizon, statuesque. Are you... thinking of home? As ever, Ico could not help but voice his curiosity.

He did not clarify if by "home" he meant Whitebark or his militaristic birthpack.