It is hard to ignore the movement of the dark one and the call he creates to summon forth Singe and his brother. He knows there is more risk around the ebony male of shadows right now from him and his brother without that of their mother to guard them, her flames illuminating a wall of protection that prevented the shadow from consuming them both. Singe was well aware of this, that mother was not here, that each step too close to him could results in a fast swipe of jaws and a crushed skull. Yet, the ferocity of mother may prevent him from coming at them on this day- for why would he call to them as he does to others, not as he would his prey?

They move now though, and he feels the dark fur of his brother upon him as they go. Singe's paws keep a certain distance from their father, but he welcomed the touch of his brother as they went. Lonhro was one to be more cautious around the living nightmare. Singe did indeed grow more confident with each pound of muscle finding its way onto his frame, but he was also not stupid. He would lead Lonhro, guide him when needed, but he also knew outside of the presence of the night, Lonhro was more than capable of fending for himself and commanding what he needs. He can almost feel the green eyes of his brother upon him from time to time, and his own intense reds would look to him, to encourage as they traveled to learn what the nightmare deemed that they must learn.

His own nares takes to the air and ground, inhaling and attempting to assess how their father reacts when certain scents were picked up. His eyes catch a slightly different reaction with one particular scent, and he attempts to keep note of what he thinks might be of importance. It seems to be of wolf, of blood, and his heart begins to pound as ebony paws part grass and speed begins to increase. He follows the nightmare who seems to be following the scent. He licks his nose, making it wet as he makes strides to keep up. Unfortunately, he is not a black shadow like his blood with him. He covered in a stark white, prime for winter, but sticking out a bit in the green.

They are heading out of the lands where the pack generally stays. He has not ventured away from the pack recently, but remembers his younger days. His ears are lifted, his flame-hued eyes with a glimmer of venom green look out attempting to find what it is they hunt. The nightmare changes pace, falling into a crouch in the grass and Singe is wise to follow suite, the sound of displeasure echoing in his ears as a warning. His paws cease to move and his body remains lowered. He feels the sting of own lungs from the effort it took to keep up, and how his muscles whisper to him in protest. His burning ember orbs direct themselves to the grey female, his nose connecting the dots in his mind. This is who they hunted as the sun fell over the horizon. Singe knew not of this female. She was not of pack. She was not one of them, and it was her blood that stirred the nightmare that led them here. Lonhro looked to Singe, and the boy of ghost and shadow held no question or hesitation. In his mind, he knew what the prey animals were, and this moment was only expanding this notion. Those not of pack, and those who bleed- those are also prey. His mind saw no issue with this, as why would it? He does not know her, she is not pack, and she is...she is weak. His red eyes pull away from his brother, his ears forward in confidence, hoping his own will flow into that of his brother. He moves forward, each paw slowly and quietly touching on the ground. He is more careful than normal, wanting to be closer, but not too close, so he can follow suite if the nightmare were to attack and burst into a run once commanded.

He is young, and his mind quite impressionable. The nightmare was creating his own demons to walk beside him- the young boys, to a walk a path of blood.