Alwin is quite pleased to see another dwarf, even if they aren't kin. He can feel the taught muscles beneath Erastil's skin ease up. Despite his recently found sense of defiance, the raptor is still keenly aware of his alpha's feelings and mental state. However, he is not keen on engaging in a race this early in the morning. Alwin raises his hand in greeting to Haibram. "Top of the morning, stone-brother," he says, using a term in his clan for other dwarves. "A race you say? I think I'll--"

He is cut off by a chittering sound from Erastil. Being a smart creature, the raptor knows different words in common and dwarven, and the word "race" is one of them. The ground hawk has learned that if he participates in a race, and comes out on top, Erastil will receive something. He knows if he wins, he might get food. Or some praise, at the very least.

Alwin gives a quiet sigh. "It seems my mind has been made up for me," he says, giving in. "Erastil! [i]Fnasa[/i]!" He gives a command to the raptor in an old dialect of dwarven, pointing to one of the footprints Haibram left behind.