Emberwood Not The Plan

Warbone moved in a slow ease, hunting for nothing and merely returning to the area he had already marked to roost for the night. The scent of blood distracted him, and the predator was riled, seeking the scent instinctively with a conditioned hound. A creek sang ahead, drawing his ears flickering atop his head as he tried to separate the water's babble from any other sound nearby— but he could hear nothing until suddenly his eyes had become more useful than his ears, and he stopped relying on them. A wolf lay ahead, ginger-furred and pepper-faced, cleaning wounds recently received.

Knowing how dangerous an injured wolf can be, Warbone approached slowly, making a low noise in his throat to catch her attention. His face is interested but otherwise unreadable.