and strike the nail against the flint

His voice withdrew her from the focus she had given to the task for a moment, pausing in their steed to assess what she could from the scents around. That lingering touch of something distinctly canine yet not; she couldn't be entirely certain of what it was. A wayward shrug followed his guess, an acute perhaps. She did not entirely worry of what foxes would do to their homestead, if only for the fact that she did not anticipate them to be foolish enough or brazen to travel too far into their territory.

She cast her gaze about for a moment, searching over the tousled summer growth for some sign that there had been more than just minimal traffic in their quarry trail. "Let us find out," she suggested, though it was hardly just a suggestion on her part. Her muzzle dropped low to the ground, hovering over it as she pushed to follow the questionable trail.