Lone Star Mountain combustion

She did not move very far at all before noting that she was being trailed. Saghani's ears cupped backward and caught the sound of the others body moving through the snow. Thinking that perhaps any moment the other would depart, Saghani did not stop. There was a point, however, in which her thought process shifted. An innate feeling possessed her, and she acted on it. In looking back she could see the others stalking crouch, an imperfect one but still all too easy to interpret. 

Saghani wasted no time at that. The lone wolf became a woman possessed by instinct instilled in her and moved in a stiff-legged march toward the other. This was effortless; she had cleared her own path, already, and so drew near to the other in no time. The greeting the other had earned was the lifted bottlebrush of her plume and the aggressive forward-thrust of her lobes. The cold curve of a yellowed canine was presented before she revealed the row of them in a snarling, displeased grimace. And her eyes held fast to the other, the premise of violence very much alive in them. Her own youth, the cold season, her hunger: each of these lent themselves to her patience, weighing heavy on it, and certainly not to the benefit of the pale stranger.

 She meant to do many things, here, and she would take any single one that she received from her posturing. Perhaps the other would leave her be. Or, maybe, the other would answer the unspoken question (what it was that she had been doing, thinking, following her). Best of all, the other would simply submit to Saghani's wish of keeping away so that the other could not ruin her (already) slim chances of a better than decent meal.