Hideaway Strath Not Today, I hope.

OOC: Thanks, @Brechin. I'll have to try out being a Wild Fauna sometime. Also, I wouldn't mind Darsal getting her prey-desperate tail kicked (not severely inured, just a few scars for the road). If you want to spar, I can see her taking her chances with Brechin in order for an opportunity for smaller prey.

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Darsal paused for a moment. The prints by the treeline led deeper into the forest, not out toward the field. 
Her slightly-folded ears perked as much as was possible, straining for any sound that might stray in her direction. Why would a stag with a group of does conceal himself in the woodland? Only a lone buck would pass up the chance to boast his harem out on the open meadow for everything to see; this way, he could see any predator before they got within three hundred yards, and off the bunch of them would be.
The ashen-black wolf studied the tracks more closely at her paws. This buck, whose impressive weight was revealed by the down-trodden mud, must have an accomplice or two at least, especially in the warm seasons. Yet, if he were alone, he'd definitely hide himself from the naked eye and delve into the forest, and this time, it seemed as though this certain forest was Hideaway Strath.
Darsal peered over the tall brush, deeper into the woods. Possibly this buck was injured, or ill, and thus was alone — by abandonment of his harem. She couldn't tell from the tracks he'd left, but she had to take her chances, or her famished pack could starve.
She trailed into the greenery, grateful for the sparse placement of the thin, spindly trees. The wolf kept her eyes forward, haunches low, blunt ears alert for any sound. It wasn't late enough in the summer for their to be an irritable amount of fallen leaves for her feet to risk crunching... thankfully.
Ahead, there was movement.