Sun Mote Copse It's going down, fade to Blackstreet

It was not a scent that first alerted Arunik'ra of a breach in their borders, but rather the thundering of feet that came after it. She had not been very far when the snap and scatter of paws underfoot punctuated the hallowed silence of the forest. Instantly she was on guard, though her posture remained tactfully reserved as she leisurely pursued the interloper. 

When the the red priestess threaded through two boughs of tall oak she saw the offender; a robust agouti wolf that seemed to borrow from the Mustangs a coltish and lissome appearance. He might as well have been one, so fleet was his departure. She eyed the male as he caught his breath. At length she cast her voice through the trees: "You stand near the Malkaria, stranger. Might I ask the nature of your intrusion?"