Meadowlark Prairie Got cups on my ears

For a time, his focus remained on the subtle winding trails of prey animals, but it soon became evident that he was being followed. What Nightjar lacked in brain power, he made up in sheer instinct. His hackles prickled uncomfortably even before Whip was close enough to see him, and his ears tilted back suspiciously. He pushed on undaunted, having learned long ago that sometimes ignoring a potential threat was enough to ward it away, but eventually he turned on the spot and headed back along his own trampled trail.

When he came face to face with Whip, he felt nothing in particular. Having never paid any attention to his own reflection and with only the means to fully see his chest and forelimbs, Nightjar had no idea that he and the unknown wolf following him were alike. The family resemblance was plain to any onlooker but missed him entirely. He blinked his hardened silver eyes and drew himself to his full height with an imposing rumble, ears slicking back and arching up to signal his irritation. He didn't need to speak the words for his question to be known. Everything about him already screamed why are you following me?

Even so, he was compelled to offer a clipped, "what?" But in the end, the other wolf departed and Nightjar was left to scowl at his backside as he went, none the wiser to their similarities.