Kintla Flatlands Plates and Saucers

A flash of white, and Shrike had spotted the wolf he'd scented, but it was only with fleeting glances that he regarded her, looking away and continuously scanning the flatlands in between the glimpses he caught of her. With each look, he gathered more information about her- that she was large, had brown eyes and a tough look about her face that gave him the impression she might not be terribly friendly. Her face was pock-marked with scars revealing dark skin, no doubt from numerous squabbles and fights, a further reflection of some sort of history and perhaps an unfriendly personality. Her fur was coarse and hung about her lean body, revealing to him that she was likely older than him by a few years as well. Within a few seconds and perhaps two or three glances, Shrike had already made up his mind about her. Tough, hardened, short temper, quick to strike. Warning. 

So within seconds of being spotted, his own physique softened and his posture would have read I am not a threat. Shrike's quick glances slowed, as he was well aware that his usual habits often made others uncomfortable. His ears turned back and relaxed, his mouth opened slightly allowing him to pant gently. He could see her in his peripheral vision, but did not turn to face her. He awaited to catch any motion from her, before he made a choice for his next action.