Ouroboros Spine Under the bludgeonings of chance

This thread is super old, and I have an absence notice thingy in my profile, but I feel bad so here.

Salamander snapped at the passing bodies, many of which paid her no attention at all. They moved in pairs, in trios, and made sure to keep the bulk of their bodies wedged between the assailant and their prized children, who milled about in the center of the herd for the most part. There was no single bull which felt provoked by her; no cow which dared depart from their offspring. She wasn't enough of a threat to them, apparently. So Salamander slid through the herd and tried to zero-in on one specific target: the wounded creature which had piqued Tonravik's attention. The scent of the herd was overwhelming; the pungent earthy aroma mingled with that of manure, and its bitter notes made her nose scrunch in distaste; but there was a dull metallic scent there, too. Hidden beneath the others. A smell which Salamander was quite keen on - and sought out with even more fervor as she realized what it was.

Blood. It wasn't strong, but it was there. A scent which pulled her deeper among the herd, weaving between the bodies, snapping at any who came too close, like Moses parting the proverbial waters; the herd thinned as she moved among them. But she couldn't trace the injured creature so easily. The scent would be there, sweet and tempting, and then it would be gone - and this only irritated Salamander further. She barked and bayed at the surrounding beasts, some which picked up their pace and moved on, and became more aggressive in her taunting.