Deepwood Weald autré temps

HI I AM SLOW

Somewhere betwixt one moss-laced trunk and the next, she became aware that she was followed.  It was not obvious to her right away, but rather a series of subtle clues.  A soft footfall, a fleeting scent on the breeze -- fickle as it was 'neath the cover of this great wood -- a rearward glance met with a flash of russet fur.  After some time she drew to a halt, ears turned rearward and hackles partially raised, alert.  She turned and cast about with eyes of glacial ice.  A shift in the shadows here, a subtle movement of a gnarled bough there.  Then she saw him as he appeared between trees:  a large wolf, male, heavy in stature and draped in colors of darkness and warm earth.  Suspicious as she was of his tracking her, his face betrayed no ill intent.  Rather, he wore an mask of curiosity and quiet interest, and her misgivings quieted somewhat.  She tilted her head at him, her expression mirroring his for the moment.  When he drew nearer, she asked simply, "Why are you following me?"