You brought out the best in me.

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Although Antares stayed in a constant flurry of otherwise occupied these days, the dark samurai welcomed the chance at a hunt and agreed to join the party. This was the wedding's feast they were after, so he wanted to be in proximity to any large-game takedowns if the guard could afford to lose him for the afternoon. Plus, he had enough familiarity in the area now to know he had enjoyed hunting here before--it came to him easily, made up of mountains--so quietly, he followed as they tracked moose.

He might not be able to claim any deep bonds to the other participants, but he wanted to be there for them and the cause--especially since he had barely taken the time to warm to Quicksilver in their busy recent weeks. Antares still recognized him largely beneath the banner of Vanderfell still out of habit, especially here beside their mottled High King.. but he knew that was soon to change. Adding to this, he was almost-certain he had seen the autumn-hued Fell wolf die at the tiger's jaws, but the samurai was really trying not to think about that. Not now. Maybe they were simply twins... but it didn't matter, she appeared hale, and ready for the hunt.

His ears flicked up to attention when Quicksilver laid the plan: they wait, for now. She would have to leave her calf eventually and the fatigue of her struggles would only weigh down on her more. Antares accepted with a silent nod, settling in to wait for opportunity to come closer, watchful.

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Uninvited, the mottled youngster pursed the group. She maintained a distance to the rear of them as they travelled, quiet on her paws as they descended into Vanderfell hunting territory. Rea made sure to keep them just in her line of sight, ducking away between foliage or low to the ground should anyone even turn an ear in her direction.

Something exciting was about to happen, and Rea absolutely had to be a part of it!

She hadn't anticipated the team to stop, and from her hiding spot she observed them settle. Rea watched, impatient, though figured she might as well get comfortable when she heard Quicksilver announce that they'd wait.

For a long time, she remained undetected until she felt a strange tickle in her nostril. Rea sucked in a breath, a sniff, hopeful that the desire to sneeze would fade, but it did not.

The youth had tried to stifle it and failed, so she crept from her hiding spot with a string of snot dangling and her tail tucked pitifully between her rear limbs. Her ears pressed back and she glanced toward her father and the others, an apologetic glimmer in the emerald of each iris.


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Quicksilver watched quietly, and at last the moose abandoned her dead calf. The druid rose from the seated position he'd assumed and followed her movement with a stalkers keen stare, until her large frame was mostly obscured by trees.

He shifted then, parted his jaws to address the hunting party, when a sound beyond their heads distracted him. Quicksilver lifted his tufted platinum ears, concern in his gaze that their chance of felling the moose might be lost, but he could not hear any quickening of the beast's stride. Instead he saw movement among the bushes that revealed the mottled form of young Rea Boesch.

Quicksilver let his shoulders slacken, and he smiled sympathetically at the girl. She was not one to be left behind, and he made to exchange a knowing glance with Hieronymous. Rea was not able to participate physically considering her condition and her lack of self-control, but he was sure a lesson could be had from the adults' hunt, and he trusted her father to instruct.

“Let's get moving,” the silverwhite said gently, and moved off in the direction of their prey, “I'll hurry on ahead and circle back, herd her toward you. Aim high, but be mindful of her legs. Let'stry to make this quick.” He pressed on at a run through the woods, swift as his name suggested, and gave his target a wide berth before he swung round to surprise her with a series of growling barks.

The plan worked. The moose cow knew a single would was no match but his presence offended her, so she swung away with a snort and trotted back in the direction she'd come from.


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Hunting was a daunting task ; depending on the target it was often hours of staking out and waiting. It usually came in the form of stamina on who would give out first, the pack, or the prey. Wolves were relentless, some even called them parasites of the forest due to their tendency to form large groups and haul in territory and an ample food supply. She was no different — a soldier within the class of a court. But she wasn't the fastest hunter, not with her size.. She held the brawn, and the stamina — and that was it. Even brains, could be questioned.

She waited ; watching as the new Emperor ran forward and circled the moose back that aimed towards. And she dived toward, running in an ample mood until nearly front-faced with it, but made a quick barrel-roll to the side before any front-legs would be lifted to attack her, or if it tried to run in another direction. She started to nip at it's ankles. Forested eyes watching carefully with each movement to try and not be caught up within it's raging stance. She wanted to rip the tendons out, slow it down and cause it to cease ; Orlaith was confident within her jaw strength to do, but she didn't know whether if could keep up this constant tipping of toes just to do that.

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Quietly he watched the Vanderfell wolves account for their suddenly-included youth, but ultimately, he keyed in best when Quicksilver began to take the lead, setting the pace forward clearly, concisely. Once things were in motion, it wouldn't be long now. Antares visually followed the path of the moose, ramping up--readying himself as it started to circle back, urged by the sterling emperor's pressure. Next, it was time for them to strike to make it count.

The vibrant huntress went for one side, and just a few beats behind her, Antares went for the opposite. When the mottled man took to the head, a matter he only saw partially as he zeroed himself in on a flank, or the upper portions of the hip. He drove teeth-first towards the meatiest areas but her legs were long, churning with force. While unafraid of some jostling, he had to work to even reach, let alone gain proper purchase once there but Antares was determined, locked on until they had something.

Once he had a grip, he wanted to make it tear--or at least weigh upon it enough so that the others could worsen things too. It would be a culminative effort in the end, he believed, and with all of his might, he attempted to throw his pull into it until the great beast fell.

They would feast.

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One by one, each of the adults turned their eyes on her. Rea stood motionless, her ears splayed and her mottled tail giving anxious little waves. Normally happy to bask in the spotlight, the young Boesch felt incredibly uncomfortable, especially to see the silent fury written on her father's face. She averted her gaze after very briefly meeting his own, and the quiet was difficult to bear. Nobody said anything until Quicksilver piped up, trying to regain the group's focus on the task they'd descended the mountain to see to.

Her former sitter moved off to pursue their intended prey, and Rea grinned a guilty smile at the High King whose stare continued to penetrate her. She parted her jaws to mutter a sickly sweet apology, but he hurriedly told her to stay away until the beast had been felled. Excitement coursed the youngster's veins then and she pricked her ears, seaglass eyes following the wolves as they shifted to resume the hunt, and soon her paws were carrying her swiftly after them to watch.

The moose was a giant, and Rea observed with wide-eyed wonder as Orlaith made a move for the legs. Her father ran to the front and the girl sucked in a breath, heart skipping an anxious beat to see him appear so feral - with snapping teeth and wild snarls. She wished she could join the fray, experience the adrenaline rush, but she did something unusual instead: she did as she was told.


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The wolves were waiting and the beast was outnumbered. They moved in to attack, and Quicksilver joined the fray.

He went in for the hindquarters, nipping at fetlocks and veering away to avoid being kicked, aiming to distract the moose to allow his comrades an opportunity to go in for the throat. The druid circled, managing to avoid being struck by flailing hooves (he wanted to look presentable on his wedding day, after all!) and delivering blows when and where he could. They worked together, the hunters of Vanderfell and Shiroshika, and at last they were successful.

The pack would feast at the celebration of his marriage to Reiko, and Quicksilver smiled at the group; he beckoned young Rea to join them. Welcoming her to them with a fond nip of bloodied teeth to her mottled brow, the druid regarded his hunting party with warmth and pride before they prepared for their return to the summit.


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