Sleepy Fox Hollow my tarnished coat of arms

There was really no need for such hostility, but Anselm's patience was worn thin as of late. He was burnt out on charity, and by extent, other wolves -- who used and used and took and took, but never stayed around or gave anything in return.

He heard the stranger mutter something, and he saw the flash of her teeth -- but as he advanced, she promptly started moving. It was risky to get hurt with the hollow so short-staffed, so Anselm hung back long enough for her to disappear from view.

He nosed a patch of dirt where she had stood, memorizing the scent laid by her paws. He waited several more minutes, confirming she was well out of earshot, and then he trotted loosely after her tracks.

The occasional bent blade of grass and the odor left by her passing were easy enough to track. Anselm's experienced eyes found these small clues easily -- he followed at an escorting trot until he was certain her tracks carried her well out of the hollow, and then he turned back to make more deposits along the border.