"Moose is already dead, we can't just leave it," Much said, raising an eyebrow at Will. Art might be weird, but Much didn't want to accept the possibility that there was something wrong with him, so he simply didn't. "Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud, we're on Art's turf, lets see what else he has to say. Hey Art!" Much called, bounding forward to catch up with him. For all that he looked inhibited by those furs, Art moved silent and swift, and Much was not used to moving at speed over such an uneven forest floor. "You got any spare knives? None of mine are mooseworthy."