Perhaps we can wrap this up sometime soon?
He was not a hunter. Attila Aston had never been a hunter—he was not to be bothered with dirtying himself in the soil staring impatiently at some fast-moving waste of air that would seem to vanish the second he edged forward. Attila had little patience for such things. He was not the type to work especially hard... when it was easy enough to find someone else to. The Aston boy was not a leech, of course; he managed to pull his weight, one way or another, and the boy had managed to make some skill out of fishing (because sleeping with a pole in hand and allowing the stupidity of a fish to do the work for him was much easier than playing tag with a hare). He tread along after them, ears flicking this way and that, somewhat uncomfortable knowing he was obligated to tag along with this little hunting party. He would be useless quickly, but perhaps his dear aunt already knew he was not much of a hunter and would take mercy.
He offered some weak laugh at the insult of his mother, though its undertones were sarcastic and he was quick to turn his unimpressed eyes elsewhere. Of course his mother wasn't a hunter&,dash;she had been too busy trying to be a mother for four children that were virtually impossible to raise together. She had tried to teach him here and there and he'd managed to learn enough to survive on his own, but Attila had never regretted what little he had been told by his mother. What he had he was grateful for; perhaps his aunt didn't understand that. Attila said nothing in response, however, but nodded obediently at the direction he was given and parted ways.
Upon finding the herd, the white male lowered himself quickly and slowed, halting as his fur brushed the rough skin of a tree. With countless yards between them, the prey remained focused on their grazing; his bright eyes stared out intently at them, making a quick glance at Anatole only to signal his cousin should be the first to move. After all, Anatole and his aunt seemed to be accustomed to hunting together, and surely the gravelly boy would know best when to approach.
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