Fox's Glade lush life

it was only the fresh and sudden reek of blood which pulled shardul from his reverie; he had stood half-lidded and drowsy in the brook, feeling the water lap at his drying wounds. but roused, he glanced about himself, focusing his attention pointedly upon the direction from which the scent came. curiosity sparked beneath his lingering irritation and the panther emerged from the waters to prowl.

his broad paws led him toward the crimson aroma; he peered with lemon orbs about a bush of threatening prickles, down at the thin body of a canine with a most unfortunate injury. the child shook and fear wafted from it in broad waves. the cat bared his teeth in a hiss, tail flicking behind him. 

the stink of foxes greeted him, overlaying the stupid bairn's own scent. tabaqui, his mind proffered. "jackal," he growled. "what stole thy leg?" in truth, shardul did not care to know the answer, but was baited to remain by the terror painted cleanly upon the child's face.