Deepwood Weald Time to take time, for spring will turn to fall

There was nothing.  Not a single trace of anything edible to be found.  He heaved a huff of annoyance and raised his head, narrowing his eyes at the distance as though perhaps something might miraculously appear.  Instead he was faced with a depressing expanse of dirt.

"Glorious," he muttered, sifting a paw at the dirt momentarily before readying to move on.  He would not stay long, but intended to circle about in hopes of finding something nearer the fields.

Instead he was met with a wary stranger.  He caught the whine and his ears twitched uncertainly; nothing about her spoke of a threat, but he wasn't sure he needed company right now.  Company meant possible competition for prey, something he could hardly afford with a pregnant mate to feed.

He did not immediately reject her though.  It seemed she wished to approach despite her trepidation, so his ears pushed forward and he relented some in his pose.  He'd hear what she wanted if she wished to speak, but he had places to be.