The Heartwood i'm not a complete wretch, i fetch

The sound of intermittent movement drew some interest from the wolf. He was glad for the distraction. It was irregular enough to not sound predatory, and as he listened he counted what he perceived to be steps; at, akat, sen... A pause? No tor?

The wolf began to slink, at least to lurk, with his head nearer the earth and eyes creeping to every sunny patch that spread among the gaps. There were scents here of various prey animals—but there was also a wolf scent, and internally Drusk warred between hunger, self-preservation, and curiosity.

As he got closer, he noticed the sounds of movement had eased. At the very least the creature he tracked was very slow, which did bode well for his hunger, but he would also pause to listen more intently when those sounds vanished and felt a growing dread that there was some trick underway.

The scent of wolf was stronger now.