They had caught a scent after a long time wandering. It was enough time for Fendros' initial excitement to become less intense and settle into the flow of the pack hunt. There was still much to learn, but he was quick to adapt, and seldom made the same mistake twice in terms of communication. As Fendros followed, he recognised the scent they were following, but couldn't place it. It may have been humanoids of some description, that was his best idea.

Hearing the voice of the Dunmer woman ahead was something that caused small apprehension at first, still caught up in the hunt as it were. As they stalked closer, his apprehension grew from his own Dunmer side of his consciousness. He began to feel resistance from his beast spirit, a bumping and pushing in his mind that would proceed a conflict. Everyone took their positions, Fendros obeyed his alpha and stayed by her. Signs of conflict began to show as his foreclaws clutched at the ground beneath him, digging out a divot under his palms. His arms began to shiver in addition. He hadn't killed anyone in his werewolf form as of yet. In fact, he hadn't killed anyone in general, only animals. It seemed so wrong to kill these people in cold blood, but he was readying himself to pounce in any case. He had to stay silent, he had to find his place in the pack. The command of the alpha was not something he could resist while in this form.

Everyone silently lay in wait while the Dunmer group continued to argue. All Fendros could do was brace himself, it would be over quickly. His beast blood prevailed this time. He opened his eyes again, he spotted his pack mates behind concealment. Without warning they pounced and charged, running on all fours. It didn't look like the first few of their prey would even have the time to draw their weapons.