The young hunter's ears twitched as he heard Naia's voice ring out behind him, a wave of guilt washing over him; he hadn't even thought of the worry he might put on his parents by staying out late without word. There was little room in his brain for remorse though, as his blood rushed through it with the thrill of the hunt. There was something about tracking, albeit it lagged the intensity of the open chase, it opened up his mind to using his senses, probing him to think, reason and plan, rather than just storm ahead. What an odd reality, that the brash youth should find such enthusiasm in thinking; I better not tell Alek! The trail was starting to confuse him though, and he lifted his head a bit, brows furrowed. Where previously, he had followed a pretty straight, narrow line of fresh blood-stench through the underbrush, he now seemed to be completely surrounded by the scent. Nose wrinkling in his confusion, the coal painted yearling sniffed at the air, muzzle lifting higher and higher as he desperately tried to make sense of the situation.

Naia's voice behind him made him turn, face a strange mask of bewilderment and frustration as he sought her golden eyes in the dimness. Her words only made him more confused, and he tilted his head, a small flash of irritation sparking in his soft orange eyes. Air-scent? What was that? And what did throwing stones have to do with hunting?! While the more experienced woman explained, Orren did his best to listen carefully, straining to imagine the image she was attempting to paint. It was hard for him to visualize scent, it's not something you see, it's something you smell! But none the less, he kept his ears perked, confident that Naia knew what she was doing.

Had it been anyone else, asking him to do this, he would have recoiled; Walking back and forth? Ridiculous! But again, he trusted the nimble scout, she was his idol, and he could not imagine she would lead him astray. So with an attempted return of her smile, he nodded hesitantly and turned back towards the Scent cone? Quite frankly, he felt like an idiot when he started trotting back and forth through the underbrush, nose held high as he constantly sniffed at the air. Every time he lost the scent her would turn, moving in a sharp angle back across the area, now and again looking back at Naia who was gradually growing farther away as he worked the pattern.

After some time, reluctantly following the monotonous model, the aspiring hunter noticed that the number of steps between each turn were decreasing, his journey across the scent cone growing shorter with every zig-zag movement. He paused, turning to look back at Naia again, and sent her a broad beam, eyes aglow with his realization; I'm closing in! With newfound eagerness, the boy returned to his task, soon crossing a very narrow area in his swerving motions. Instinctively he slowed, lowering his stomach towards the ground as he crept along, knowing the wounded rabbit could not be far ahead. He froze, disappearing completely among the bramble, with his chin kissing the ground, nose quivering, eyes narrowed as he gazed through the plants; did he see something moving there? The lad's copper ears flicked backwards as he listened for Naia behind him, waiting for her ready signal before moving, to make sure he didn't mess anything up. Then he would jump ahead, not expecting the bleeding rabbit to put up much of a chase, but never the less ready for one; Just in case!

Their relationship was a truly special one. While the young Baranski loved his parents and siblings, what he had with Naia was different; she was his mentor, his friend and - at least to the tween boy's rebellious mind - the only one who truly understood him. The scout was the only one he would follow without question, the only wolf who could engage him in a lesson without getting attitude. True, part of the reason was childish infatuation, a young lads eager adoration of an older female creature of grace and strength. But his care for her ran deeper  than that too. Naia and Lachesis were both very close with the River leaders, practically family, even more than the rest of the pack. They were 'aunt' and 'uncle', had helped care for the pups from birth on a level almost adjacent to their parents. And yet they were not family, at least not of the sort that would inevitably grow 'lame' to an aging child trying to find his own place in the world. Instead they were strange and new and wonderful! An infallibility that would eventually be proved a lie, but for now it was reality.

However, in this moment at least, the young boy did not act twitterpated. Instead he moved with certainty, eager but controlled, sliding along the ground so slowly that he was almost at a standstill. He could hear Naia behind him, moving less stealthily, though not noisy at any rate. His breathing stalled, one ear tilted back to listen for her comment while the other remained forwards. His bright orange eyes were narrowed to slits, pupils dilated to see through the growing darkness. Ahead of him, a lightly quivering shadow was crumpled up, the faint sound of its gasping breath just audible to the attentive hunter; his prize. Then the instructor's words fell, voice no longer hushed as she had realized what the less experienced tracker was yet to notice. He sprang, jaws slamming down hard around the upper part of the rabbits back. It didn't even try to escape, the tiniest of squeaks seemingly its only reaction to the sudden attack. Then Orren broke its back, in it died with a last sigh of relief.

The victorious hunter spun around, proudly dangling his prize in front of his teacher. His chest puffed, eyes shining through the dusk; I did it! The poor rabbit had been so exhausted from blood loss, it had no chance of survival, but that didn't matter to the coppery lad. He had tracked it down, he had killed it; It's MINE! He smiled at Naia through blood and fur, tail waving in a high arch over his back; "I did it, I did it Naia!" He garbled his triumph, meeting her golden gaze with unmasked adoration; "Tha' was so cool, with the tracking and the scent cone and everything and... Wow!" He prattled on in his excitement, filled with a thrill unlike anything he had ever experienced. He practically danced on the spot, still soaking in the full impact if the evenings events; I am a HUNTER!

Their celebration was glorious, skipping and baying, and Orren's eyes burning through the night like embers when they met Naia's lighter, but equally excited gaze. Seeing his glory reflected in his teacher only brought the boy even more joy, the dangling rabbit doing a dance of its own in his jaws. The elegant scouts smile was all he could have wished for and he basked in its glow, trying to grin back, though it would be mostly invisible since he still refused to let go of his prize. Her words made him warm all over, and the following touch raised even more heat in his cheeks and ears, in that moment he didn't care for his family's approval, having hers was all that mattered. Suddenly tightly clasped jaws was an excellent excuse, as the teenager found his tongue locked, quick breathing catching in his throat while he looked at delicate woman.

In the darkness he could not see the blood, staining her muzzle and slowly trickling its way down the bridge of her nose, leaving him completely unprepared for her second touch. When her nose left his fur, but didn't take the wet, sticky feeling with it though, he was able to guess what had happened, a cough-like bark of laughter escaping him at her words. The black-masked head bobbed, a small droplet of blood starting to wander down his own face, tickling terribly. Though he didn't want to dismiss her gesture, he finally had to raise a paw, rubbing at the bridge of his muzzle, further smearing out the blood. Then, with a snort, the yearling stretched out his, now also bloody, paw to tap it on his mentor's shoulder, the only reply to her praise he could come up with. His cheeks were still burning, whole face lit up by pride and gratitude; So often in his life, the second Baranski son had felt like a failure, like he couldn't do anything right and existed only to disappoint his family and those around him; The lesser prince... But not in this moment, this night he had done someone proud and proved that there was something he was good at; I wouldn't mind being stuck with that.

As Naia went to pick up their first catch, Orren danced after her, raising his head high to proudly show of his prize. Her question didn't even make him pause, in fact he almost rolled his eyes - everyone in the pack knew where at least one cache was and could find it in an emergency - but, knowing that she meant only good by allowing him to lead them there, he simply emitted a short rumbling noise in recognition, and started off through the cedars, tail waving like a banner behind him; Back towards Cut Rock River and, hopefully, proud and praising parents.