King Elk Forest i'm just taking a greyhound on the hudson river line

Cecily remains seated as she watches the flame through golden eyes. It is not unusual for wolves to be stiff and guarded towards those of unfamiliar origins, and so the older woman is not surprised when her own actions are welcomed with sharp movements. "You were searching for something?" she enquires, her head inclining slightly to one side as if noting the she-wolf's pacing from before.

As the younger wolf approaches, Cecily takes the time to study her more closely. She is tense, that is clear, and smaller than herself but that is to be expected. Her ribs are prominently seen through her rich, auburn pelt, but beneath what is visible, she notices lines of sinew and growing muscle that point towards a more sturdy build. Come winter, she will be something to admire. "The forest is a provider, so long as you know where to look," she continues with a light smile, her unmarked limb reaching out to indicate her small bundle of web and leaf. Perhaps they could hunt; the woodland seemed alive with prey and with two of them, they would stand more of a chance. 

As if on cue, a deep bellowing echoed through the darkening sky, and Cecily twists round and rises to her paws before looking back briefly at the caramel Arab with a swish if her tail as if to ask, shall we? Where there is a buck, there would be a herd.