Maybe it seemed a bit ridiculous to Dorian - but it appeared effective enough. The halla seemed receptive enough to him, despite him being a stranger among the clan. Two of the halla remained close to Dorian's side, a pair of does by the looks of things. They looked towards him, one bold enough to turn her head and sniff at him a little before her attention moved forward. The dogs began to come closer though the three that approached lay down in the grass a few feet away, not quite as willing to approach Dorian as the halla were. The halla were amazingly placid.

The elf that rode the hart took the beast around in another wide circle, checking the perimeter for any stragglers. He called out a few things an elvhen and Camras whistled to get the remaining dogs' attention, the slender hounds bounding over towards him. He pat each of the graceful hounds' heads and looked to his brother, Deywen nodding to him before turning his attention towards Dorian.

"Tell them dareth shiral," the older hunter called out, "Dareth shiral, andaran atish’an. They'll return to our camp. Follow them - the dogs will run ahead, keep any from going astray. We shall follow behind."

The elf on the hart came around again, speaking something Dorian didn't understand again - though he'd used the word shem more than once, while casting a glance in Dorian's direction. That should have been enough indication. Deywen raised his hand and waved it idly, shaking his head, looking back to Dorian and gesturing for him to move.

"The camp is not far."