The juniper needles surrounding them weren’t anything spectacular. He had frequented these woods often enough, observing the different shades of green and learning the different paths that weaved through the trees. Most of his time was spent exploring and escaping the abundance of orange in the Vale. Laur-somethin’ was usually MIA, leaving Sachiel without a playmate. His parents were kept busy with their adult shenanigans which meant he was often left without supervision—not that he minded. It meant it was easier for him to sneak away unnoticed. He did not mind the company of some of his packmates, but only when he was in the mood for it. Their constant need to converse made his head spin, which made it difficult for him to focus on his surroundings and the colours.
In typical Sachiel-fashion the boy shrugged in response to Tikhon’s question, his mismatched pools glancing over at his companion. “Some. Jus’ small stuff.” Most of the time he was unsuccessful but Tikhon didn’t need to hear that. He would most likely help the little Leigh better his technique while they hunted together. (He hoped.) Hunting was an important skill—something he would need to learn regardless of what path he decided to take in the future. Otherwise he would be deemed useless to the Vale—or any other pack.