The act of hunting had not really interested the boy yet. He was far more content exploring the Vale and attempting to distance himself from all the obnoxious orange leaves. The boy knew that it was a skill he would have to learn eventually, especially if he wanted to provide for the pack like his parents did, but it could wait. As the agouti spoke Sachiel nodded gently in response to show that he liked the idea. Eating was definitely important—especially when it involved adventuring. He couldn’t be starving as he explored the pines beyond the vale. “Mmm’kay,” he mumbled in response, his black-tipped tail swaying gently behind him. Hunting was not something he could avoid learning, otherwise he would be deemed useless and most likely thrown from the pack. And, despite all the orange, Sachiel was quite fond of the place.
A yawn tugged at his lips, causing his eyes to water and his brows to furrow. They had already done quite a lot of walking; his legs were starting to grow tried along with the rest of his body. “‘Ome now?” He asked, his head tipping to the side as his denim gaze fell to the russet wolf. Surely the newcomer had grown weary as well, for he had mentioned that his health was not where it should be.