Broken Antler Fen A son with wanderlust

Feyre was passing through the  brush, her creamy coat sliding through the leaves quietly. Her muzzle remains low to the ground tracking the path of a hare she caught the scent of not to long ago. As she came closer to the hare, she spots the small fluffy tail scoot through the brush in front of her. With a sharp growl, she leaps after it, breaking through on the other side and skidding to a halt. 

A older male wolf stood nearly 10 paces away. The petite fae flicked her gaze back to where she came, and then over to the hate fleeing into the underbrush. She turned her warm gaze back to the stranger, hoping she hadn't crossed into territory that belonged to a pack. She chuffed lightly, her melodic voice calling out to the other wolf, "Hello? I'm Feyre, it's pronounced Fay-ruh... I-I'm sorry, but did I cross into your territory?" She looked away sheepishly.