Haunted Wood Here Am I

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There is a blooming disquiet to the savage as he moves; an intense loneliness that presents itself in the form of a heavy-footed trot. Begging for attention. The wolf appears to be hunting, though for what he searches none can be sure.

He does not move stealthily enough to imply that he is on quest for food. He does not move gently enough to imply that he scours for something dainty. It is impossible to tell by his loping gait and cavernous expression what it is he craves— but it isn't too long before his trajectory gives away his intent: the bow of a cave ahead, housing the recent scent of another wolf.

He paused several lengths away from the mouth of the broad den. He couldn't see anything at first, but his nose twitched and flexed, working through the things he needed to know about the canine that lie inside; like it's attachments, health, and gender.

Saying nothing at first, he waited for a moment to be noticed, but if his quarry should prove to be asleep or inattentive...

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