Fox's Glade i'm sippin' on my syrup, movin' slow, but i'm still rushin

He did not expect the response he received and was quick to backpedal with ears flat and eyes wide. "Whoa," he said, but in the next moment her disposition shifted as she realized that she had been spooked by he and not some terrible creature of the night. A grin spread across his muzzle, and he laughed along with her.

"Oh no worries," he chuckled. "I am quite good at scaring people it seems. I don't even try!" Indeed, this was not the first time he had startled someone, despite his lack of effort in concealing his footsteps and the glaring white of his coat. Once more wondered: how sneaky could he be if he tried? Perhaps wolves were possessed of a sense that knew when they were being stalked; perhaps this was the secret to his accidental success at surprising them: by not sneaking he became sneaky.

He chuckled again, at his own thoughts this time, as she settled into a submissive posture and introduced herself. He adopted a deep, booming voice (as best as he could). "I am Luke. I mean lots of harm." He narrowed his eyes, pursed his mouth and thrust his ears forward, his dancing tail growing stiff. But he could not hold such a charade, he never could, and he broke it by laughing. "I kid I kid. No need for that around me, dear! I was just out an about and thought I'd say hello."