Blackbeak Bluff I know who I am when I'm alone

The smallest scent slipped through the salt, catching in his nose. Metallic and familiar. Njal turned his head in time to see the slinking stranger - roguish in all aspects according to the old man, but not a threat - and he paused to watch them. Then he caught movement in his periphery, which made Njal turn again; this time with his fur bristling, because the scent returned - thicker this time, warmer - and he recognized the smell of a fresh kill. The pale wolf seemed a bit put-off, maybe being a rogue as well. Njal had no interest in taking the rabbit from them, but he did glance sharply towards the bronze coated stranger, curious of their reaction. So far he had barely moved, but there was an obvious intensity to the moment; thus far neither stranger seemed to pose a threat. The pale wolf eventually dropped her prize, calling out gruffly. Njal licked his lips - more testing the air than anything - and then let out a chuff as a response. She was welcome to come closer if she wished.