The silence lingered—and this time, she was the one who stopped it. Words were spoken with the warmth and firmness of sunbaked soil, raising Lugh's ears, returning the glow of determination to the boy's colorful gaze. 'You will,' his head canted, brows furrowed, 'learn. When your legs know the ground. When your breath matches the herd's.'

With anyone else, he would've retorted—Lugh does know the ground. He's spent countless hours walking, carving out paths with his impressively large, still-growing paws, sauntering along the meandrous contours of the neighboring forests' treelines.

He... thought he knew everything there was to know. Yet, there was sagacity in Silatuyok's gaze that Lugh could not rival if he wished. She did not simply know, she had seen. A spirit who'd wandered the prairies for god knows how long. Certainly, since long before Lugh had existed, even in his mother's womb.

'They are not just strong. They are watchful.' Lugh pursed his lips and dipped his head. She paced, standing in tandem with his stance. Her limbs were planted so firmly, yet her musculature was lax with confidence. He tilted his head, shifting to mimic her actions. 'When you are, we will hunt one.'

He did not question, he did not comment. Instead, he simply turned, looking into the forest with a soft breath, keeping his body alert. Wary, yet not apprehensive. I trust you. He responded quietly.