Mougin almost thought he didn't hear it. He supposed he could have ignored it, but curiosity got the better of him this time. There was a lull in the proceedings anyway. 

The minotaur sauntered onto the ship and looked around for the crate he heard moving. It was difficult, now that it wasn't making noise anymore. Mougin breathed deep and asked the wind to carry sound to him. Another foundational technique of the Bighorn tribe. Though it was easier to use on the wind swept plateaus, it should be enough to satisfy his curiosity. Various conversations floated through the air. Officer Charles was talking with his current employer (perhaps he should greet him later on), the man with metal arms was talking with their lithe (but apparently very strong) co-worker, and he could even here the beeps and whirs of the machinery busily ferrying crates to and fro. He ignored all of that and focused on the crates. Soon enough he could hear a light thumping from one of them, and he walked towards it.

The mystery deepened as he got closer. A familiar scent wafted from the crate, the scent of home. But if that was the case, why was it moving? There seemed to be crying coming from the container too. Now he had to know. Briefly, he contemplated if it was worth risking the ire of his employer to simply satisfy his own curiosity.

The minotaur's broad fingers pried the opening of the crate, lifting. The lid of the crate opened with a loud crack and revealed the 'cargo'. Children were inside, very obviously beastmen children, in various states of distress. Mougin was very confused.