Hoshor Plains don't let your fears win

When nothing and no one appeared, Regipre's gaze found its way back to her sister. Sart was now eating grass. She barked to invite Reggie to have a taste. The slightly older pup ignored her litter mate completely. She began scanning the plains again, sure that someone or something was out there. Her hackles lifted slightly, as did her lip, as if to tell off any unseen, unknown dangers.

The coyote whelp jerked ever so slightly when movement caught her eye from an unexpected direction: near the den. She turned again, watching expressionlessly as Tomahawk exited the den, briefly eyeballed her daughters, then trotted away. She probably wouldn't come home empty-handed. Reggie's mouth watered at the thought of some pre-chewed meat, though she reminded herself to focus.

Bored with watching her sister, she nonetheless began to walk toward Sart. Halfway there, she froze. Her head lifted and her tail stiffened. "Wolf." The word popped out of her mouth quietly. She caught Sart's gaze, then turned and squinted at the long grasses of the plain, trying to discern the origin of the scent blustering into her small nose.