Tegwaret knew that silence was key in their hunt. A small part of him, knowing now how much was on the line, wished that he could have used a fire to see where the thickest furs were this morning. He would have to rely on mundane skill; educated, but still mundane.
His arm pointed out swiftly to a patch of newly trodden grass along the riverbank. While not an actual track, a small area of grass about the size of a hand was slowly erecting itself after having recently being trampled. Blade by blade, the grass fought against the previous night's cold to stand upright in the morning sun. This was key. His eyes followed the arch of the stiffening grass to see where the prey had left towards. Inching closer, he could see a small path of grass raising to meet him, heading south-east away from the river.
Closing the distance between him and Ailshea, he grabbed his own bow and whispered quietly near her as he passed. "Fox."