The Tangle The stick, the thorn, the briar

He arrived from the north without fanfare, plodding across a deep valley at the foot of a glacier before following a cool, salty breeze in a northwesterly direction. He passed beneath a mountain and began to skim along the coast before the scent of a wolf pack made him freeze. The wolf licked his lips and waggled both his eyebrows and his tail, yet he decided against stopping and making any inquiries. He wasn't ready to face an entire pack. So he diverted to the south, picking his way through a rather brambly bit of thicket before another scent came to him, this time a solitary one. A female, he thought with a grin.

He stalked her through the brush. His eyes raked over her when he found her, glimmering with approval. Once he was certain she really was alone, he made a bold and forward approach. "Yo, baby, wassup?" He gave her his most winsome smile as he swaggered closer.