Shy Deer Steppes sotuknang

She dared not speak as she came upon the oddly patterned wolf (if that was what this was), although she did not do much to mask the sound of her steps upon the snow. Sitala knew what a threat looked like—often it was large, fanged, or multifaceted in the manner of her own sisters—and so she was not as timid as some. Often it had been Sitala that was the threat; so she had been taught, so the world would remain.

As the ghost slipped in a crescent pattern around the idling wolf, she caught sight of something extending from the maw. Sitala's ears shot forward as she was struck by a thought: Kamali? No. It was small but noticably dense and vibrant, like a fox pelt. Nothing like the girl.

A glance to the surrounding terrain told her everything else she needed to know: aside from some flecks of discoloration across the frosted earth, there was no indication that this object had come from this location. She took a deep breath; the scent of blood was upon the air but it was old. It left her with further questions.

The she-wolf chose to advance rather than to flee, believing she understood the risks of the situation. This was a lone wolf with a meal—nothing more. Her aim was to slip around him and move on, keeping attuned to the trail left by the departing Kamali in the process.