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"He can't help the pull," He protested on his deer's behalf. "He's not much for instructions, but he means well. 'Tis true though, that being far would not do - but surely home is a terrible risk. I can't imagi -"

The deep bellow of a hunting horn rang through the plains, at once startling Mellt and terrifying Thornley, the emotions melded in their gut. The heavy galloping of a well-worn steed rumbled louder, a familiar sound that stoked fear in their youth when they were knee-deep in mischief, and now palpably in their adulthood when they were knee-deep in mischief:

"Father." Thornley stated, gripping the cup of worms with wild panic, searching Locke's face for instruction.

The cup had been set heavily onto the ground, and if not for the direness of the situation (their father was, after all, well equipped to shoot them right there and then), the sight of Thornley hauling a fawn up on each shoulder and running through the brush would've set anyone laughing. As it were, the air was deadly silent, save the violent rustling of deer forcibly shoved into foliage.

The Earl of Ashford rode up to the formerly-occupied plains, and swept a severe look across the landscape before his gaze settled upon the anomaly in the middle.

"What are you doing here, Locke?" His tone was hard and suspicious, bearing down on his second son as he halted his magnificent horse. Various weapons were strapped across his back and littered about the saddle - clearly the Earl had been intending to hunt. "It is difficult to believe such a shut-in like you would merely be out for fresh air and a picnic."

The incredible brows knitted, with a lift of his hand that betrayed a desire to strike his smug face - but no, it was too inconvenient from this distance, and he had another discrepancy to settle with the wayward son. "And that I highly doubt, Locke," he declared, and the shift of his head caused the bows and guns to clatter together. "for you two seemed to be getting along marvellously in the study when I spoke of the ball, arriving together and dismissing on my behalf his indiscretions. Clearly you are hiding something from me, boy," and the hand laid to rest on the hilt of a hunting dagger, "and you would do well to tell me what it is."

And just at this opportune moment as the father seemed ready to dismount and inflict searing rage upon Locke, the better son arrived through the brush, gasping and somewhat dazed, clothes dishevelled and hair loosely pulled together. "Hello Father," Thornley said, blundering through the tension, then pausing in between the two with a sheepish grin. "Is...uh, is something amiss?"

"Dalliances?" He repeated like a gaping fish, blinking between his father and brother. If Thornley was in on it, he would be a brilliant actor - but instead, his genuine confusion couldn't be more convincing. "Wait, Father, I - "

"For goodness sake, Thornley," The Earl snapped, aggravated by the younger one's impudence and the older one's idiocy. "Must you be such a disgrace so publicly - oh blast it all, discretion has never been in your nature!"

"I'm afraid not, Father," the awkward grin reminded, a hand crept up behind his head for the perfect picture of stupidity.

"Twenty seven years of age and the heir to the land - " He was building up to a spectacular explosion, Thornley could tell with some horror, " - and you indulge in your carnal fantasies and fall back into cahoots with your belligerent brother as if to spite me. Now what in the world is going on?!"

"Apologies, Father, I -" he attempted, and his heart stopped for, as if to spite him, a bolt of curiousity arrived, there was a rustle and the cream muzzle of Mellt started to peek out from the bushes.

The storm turned its attention, and the Earl's head whipped towards Locke - thankfully, utter bafflement dampened the rage. Their father now perched upon his ride, squinting at the fumbling, and asked gruffly: "Now what are you doing?"

The Earl raised a warning finger at his back, with a disdainful and suspicious grunt. (In the meantime, Thornley attempted desperately to ‘speak’ to his own small and especially dimwitted child, though he wasn't sure if he was managing to berate or panick him.) "A rook. And where did you get this rook?" He queried harshly - it sounded just that bit Old Ways-esque, and this child...suffice to say, he did not like that thought at all.