Loud, clumsy footfalls approached from behind Gryffyth as he quenched his thirst at the bank of a small spring. The Elf's ears twitched as he recognized Thaddeus from what the sound of his steps spoke of his size and stride. Gryff acted as though he did not hear the human and continued to drink as he approached, waiting for the Man to approach and speak when he felt close enough. Comfortable speaking distance was very different between Men and Elves, despite how loud the former seemed to be. Finally the Watchful Man spoke, and Gryff spun about to face him. He sat on the forest floor with his legs crossed under him, looking up at Thaddeus like an attentive child. His eyes were clear signs of his inhuman nature; pink-brown in color, running to the edges of his eyes so as to leave no whites.

As Thaddeus finished, asking about the manner of beast that had borne the blade to Gryff's ancestral dagger, the Elf responded, "Cysgd, they are called." The human tongue Gryff knew was spoken in a lilting Elvish accent, his voice like the call of some robust bird. "Uh, shadows, meaning. Not long before we cross them, no. Best avoided, in my thought. Ways to keep them far, eh..." He scratched his head, thinking of the best defenses against the nocturnal, predatory beasts. "Some herbs, the smell they don't like. Fire will keep away, but, uh, will attract other things. If lucky, we will never see one." Thinking for a moment, he added on, "If unlucky, uh, much the same." To express his meaning, he crossed his finger over his throat in a way he had seen some humans do. "We will keep watches, that is best."

Lwyci growled as Thaddeus approached too close for the wolf's comfort. Gryff put a hand over his companion's muzzle to placate him; were he anyone else, the gesture would have cost him fingers. With a whistle and click of his tongue, the wolf stood up off of his haunches, and Gryff leaped astride his back. A word of departure to Thaddeus, and he rode off into dense woods, clutching the thick fur of the wolf's back in lieu of reigns. The hunt was on. The Elf and wolf both searched the wind for the scent of prey, but they could find nothing other than the smell of their companions until they had been riding for some time. Though he knew it was impossible, Gryff idly wondered if the forest could sense the presence of Men, and had called its children to hide in its depths. He could understand why; they had sent him to hunt for food nearly every day, sometimes twice. They seemed insatiable to the ascetic Elf. Had they ever gone a day without eating? Eventually they were able to find  small animal trails, and decided that these were the best option for feeding his ravenous friends. A larger beast -such as an elk or boar- could feed them for days, but it would take hours to track and kill, and he had no way to carry it back. A few smaller creatures of the underbrush would suffice.

Gryff dismounted Lwyci and the two followed trails for some time, in search of a nest or burrow. Eventually a rabbit den was found nestled under the roots of a great oak, and the duo of Elf and wolf set to work. Gryff dug out under the roots roughly where he assumed the burrow ended with the dull end of his spear, but stopped just short of uncovering it. He set himself at the burrow's entrance, and whistled to Lwyci to finish digging. Eventually a fat, brown mother rabbit came running out of the burrow in fear of the great wolf, and ran straight into Gryff's waiting arms. The rabbit kicked and wrestled with Gryff for a few moments, giving the Elf a few good scratches, but he eventually got a grip on the rabbit's head and broke its neck. His prey now secure, Gryff hefted it over his shoulder, and looked to Lwyci, who had the blood and fur of the rabbit's young smeared over his muzzle. Gryff smiled and patted his friend lovingly, and the two continued on to find another nest.