Three days travel and the majority of it had been done at night due to the blistering late summer temperatures. Wraith mourned the fact that the lowlands were so lacking in shade with only a few spares trees to hide under during the hottest part of the day. The leader's coat was patchy in half-shed disrepair without @Piety to tug the excess fur. One thing was for certain; he couldn't wait for winter.
The lowlands were peppered with tracks from a herd of caribou heading westward and the male felt they were falling behind. Cheedo, to her credit, was good company and he let her lead the scouting mission for the most part, offering advice only when it suited him. Odin was a comforting presence and one he was content to rely on. With the way the herd was traveling, Wraith suspected the three of them would have to turn the caribou back towards Whitestone to spare the rest of the pack the long hunt. Especially if Cyril was going to be joining them, it made little sense to make the poor boy travel halfway across the Lore only to run out of stamina by the time it was actually time to hunt.
Dusk was settling now and the sky burnt a brilliant orange along the horizon ahead of them while a deep blue-purple encroached from behind. Interestingly enough, Wraith noted the trail of a falling star just in his periphery. Glancing up, his maw fell open in awe. "Look," he murmured to his companions, indicating for them to follow his gaze skyward. "Hopefully it's a good omen for the upcoming hunt." As he looked on, more and more falling stars became visible, burning in the sky as they dove towards the horizon. They seemed to be guiding them in the same direction as the herd. Had the caribou seen signs of it earlier and followed the meteor shower this far westward?
The male stood and nudged Cheedo and then Odin to join him. "Let's get going. I fear they're pulling ahead of us too far."