Arthur moved silently through the barren wastelands under the watchful glow of the two moons. The larger moon cast an eerie silver light, while its smaller companion hung like a faint shadow in the sky. The terrain was harsh, jagged stones and scattered glass-like formations marking the land as unforgiving. He moved with care, his steps light against the desert sands, his eyes piercing the night in search of Fedlimid. But there was no sign of him.
In the distance, a flicker of movement caught Arthur's attention. His eyes sharpened, locking onto a pack of coyotes circling their prey, a lone fox. The little creature darted and weaved, desperate to avoid the snapping jaws that closed in around it.
Arthur stilled, observing the predators. Their movements were almost military in precision. They communicated without words, their coordinated assaults speaking of instinct honed by necessity. The sight intrigued him. 'Communication without language... how do they do it?'
