the coyote hung around wherever Astrid directed her, never daring to traverse the woods. She had been obedient, mostly, these past couple weeks, careful to not ignite the woman's wrath and spend another night in Wolfskull. She was a mess, frankly; filthy, and the fear and darkness of this place getting the best of her. She crept through the shadows, bolting back to whatever place offered relative safety whenever she heard something that might be a wolf.
thirst had her wander, today, and she crept to a stream, drinking greedily and quickly, gaze travelling in every direction, fur on end, ears stiff and paws prickling, prepared to leap away as fast as physically possible should danger in any form present itself.
There was a coyote in their borders. He smelled it along the borders, but as it pushed into the Woods, Miraak grew stiff. It lingered about, prevading the air, evading him whenever he tried to find it. It frustrated the male to no end, chasing after this phantom smell. His lips curled as the scent passed by his nose again, his head whipping to chase after the evasive particles.
Miraak was glad then, that the stream was in his sights as he whirled about, and as his sight caught up with his head, he saw the dirty creature drinking from the waters. He stepped forward, his body behind her, hoping she was not aware enough to hear his steps before his voice. You've been escaping me for sometime, dear,
He rumbled as he approached the drinking coyote, his face a mask of civility and kindness, draped over a void of murderous wrath. Just how did you get in here?
She leaps in fright, and Miraak surges forward to take advantage of her stumble, nearly coming close to pinning her down. But coyotes are quick little things, and he is old. Miraak takes a moment to watch her, then quickly follows, watching her trail and following her to the center of the forest — Redgrove.