Far'lan, his bright blue eyes scanning the ground beneath their feet, scoffed at the Hudlah that were scattering around like the plague they were upon Or'sol. The tiny creatures barely the size of a single one of his claws were barely worth his time, and yet in numbers such as these became a suddenly daunting task. Artaygo and Novato were due back at any moment with supplies needed to create makeshift traps until they could find a better and more permanent solution.
Crates filled with food were now lining key areas away from the main streets of Or'sol, but still in prominent positions where they could lure the tiny Hudlah. Far'lan's furrowed brow seemed to only get deeper as he watched more and more Hudlah appear out of seemingly thin air.

As if summoned by Far'lan's growing frustrations, Artaygo and Novato appeared in sight carrying a mix-match of various items. "About time" Far'lan grumped "There has been so many of these little blighters." he gestured widely; not that it was possible to actually look in any direction without seeing at least one small rodent.
"It was surprisingly difficult to find things that could be useful in non-lethal ways." Novato responded without even so much as a glance up at the darker Tsabhua - his grandfather.
Far'lan closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as if to soothe a brewing headache. Not even the beautiful sunny mid-kerah day with the gentle cool breeze of Mireh could possibly ruin Far'lan's sour mood.
Artaygo, the rather tall but incredibly gentle poultry farmer, felt the tension between his father and his son. Far'lan wished to be out hunting the larger prey whereas Novato seemed keen on capturing as many as possible; and Artaygo could not help but agree with his sons methods. Before he could attempt to diffuse the sensed tension, Far'lan snorted gruffly.
"Remind me, again." his exasperated sigh showed that despite his frustrations, Far'lan was slowly giving up the fight. "Why in Ba'av are we attempting to capture these... pests... when we should be exterminating them?"
A small pack of Hudlah ran out from the only tavern in Or'sol and between Far'lans legs, carrying scraps of some sort of unidentifiable foodstuffs, squeaking excitedly as they dragged away their haul from a shouting resident. Far'lan did not look down. Artaygo's eyes widened in horror, knowing his father was on his last nerve whilst Novato barely stiffed a laugh.

Stammering over his words, Artaygo answered. "Y-yes well... there have been discovered a family of Tark'ee living in the depths of the bunker. They are very hungry and have requested supplies - specifically meat - in order to nourish themselves and their people."
"And of course" added Novato, barely keeping the sass out of his voice "it would be better to give them live animals to breed rather than just meat. No report has shown any indication if these Tark'ee will want to stay where they have made their home or come to the surface. If they stay, they can sustain themselves instead of relying on us outsiders."
Novato's soft green eyes met his grandfather Farl'an's piercing blue ones, and did not waver.

After what seemed a lifetime to Artaygo, Far'lan nodded. "Very well then, tell me what you need of me."
Novato's face beamed with excitement as he started to explain his ideas. The sun had began to set over the clan's hillside and even more Hudlah had become incredibly active in the waning light; a perfect time to test their traps.
In the end, their traps ranged from contraptions as simple as a treat under a propped up container, all the way to convoluted chain reaction machines. Artaygo was filled with swelling pride for the wonderful and constructive interactions between his father and his son - a rarity to be sure. However, he was so proud that he failed to set up a single trap of his own for being too invested in Far'lan and Novato's relationship.