Hunting had proven to be fruitless this far south of the Pass, but the Nomad had taken whatever he could muster up. Here and there, over the past few days of following traces of @Datura and his companion's trail, mice and all sorts of leftover morsels of corpses had moderately filled his belly. Bordering on the edge of delirium, he had nearly had enough of searching. If only the two could have stopped... for just a moment. Surely the both of them should've put their hunting skills to use if they were going to last just a while longer or go even further into this hell.

Mapplethorpe, though he had been feeling in quite a haze, suddenly perked up. Something luminescent landed on the tip of his nose and he stopped to shake it away. When it tried again to perch on the bridge of his muzzle, he hastily batted it away with a muddied paw. Shoo! he glared at the pinprick of light, blowing at it to watch it tumble through the air and flutter off again.

He sighed as he walked past a few more trees, his half-lidded eyes widening as he realized he passed a distinct curtain of aroma that told him one of the two adolescents had gone somewhere nearby. By how pungent it was, stinging at his nostrils, it seemed his targets were close. He had to seal his lips shut, afraid that Datura's name was going to slip off his tongue and through his teeth. It only made sense that if he was to recapture the missing prince of the Pass, he was to do it stealthily in all hopes that he would come back home with him out of will alone. Datura was bold, he knew, and he wanted to make sure he had given himself enough room as to convince the boy otherwise should he decide he did not want to return home.

In the last rays of what little sunlight that had filtered through the fen, the ragged male carefully prowled forward, senses still alert while his hopes began to soar. He had to be close… He just had to be.

Then, suddenly without warning, something moved through the trees at his right. His head jerked after the movement, nose twitching and hackles raised. The head of a curious fox peered out from behind the dark trunk of a tree and barked at him before disappearing again. Mapplethorpe pushed down the growl at his throat, but another fox appeared at his side. It was skinnier, younger perhaps, but nonetheless more irritating than the first. It chattered rather unintelligently at him and he found himself nipping at it, the sound of his teeth clicking before a loud snarl sent the duo darting back into the darkness.