Cerulean Cape to haunt, to startle

Foxglove wished she had taken off the moment she had spotted the other wolf in the distance. Because now that he had spotted her and was approaching too fast for her liking, the she-wolf stepped back and cast a wary glance around her. There was an ocean on one side, long beach on both sides and a line of forest on her left. Had she had more time to flee, the latter would have been an obvious choice, though at this time of the year with snow her patchwork coat would hardly do for camouflage. 

Then again - when the wolf had come near enough to be evident that it was a "he" and too well-fed and healthy in comparison to Foxglove's borderline emaciated state, she realized that - once again - it would no have mattered, if she had tried to flee. He would have caught up. And all of a sudden she felt oddly calm about the odds that weren't in her favour at all. If a certain Death lurked at every end of the roads, then why fear. 

The man may have appeared charming and handsome to some, but Foxglove, who for the last two months of winter had only cared about surviving another day and waking up in the morning still alive, was indifferent. She did not return his greeting and her expression was one that said: A-a-and? What do you want?