Kintla Flatlands we can't compete with the squirrels

She had been wandering that morning, tacking onto various scents and tracking them for a time. She soon came across her father's, as easily recognizable as her own voice, and followed it for a time, interest growing as it led from the territory. She drew within sight of him fairly soon; he hadn't gone far. In fact, her gaze was drawn by the two women with him, curious if they wished to join, perhaps. But as she drew up beside her father with a hunter's silence, she heard the last of her father's words, and was quick to note the tension hanging between them.

She was silent, but her hackles prickled warily as her burning gaze turned to the two women, not knowing exactly what was happening here, but willing to back up her father no matter what. She did not add her voice to the conversation, that would be petulant and stupid of her, to but in when she knew not what had happened. But she could take the form of silent comrade at her father's side, as to balance the numbers and hopefully discourage the tension from coming to a head. The prospect of a fight, however, sent a tingle down her spine, and she could not pretend to completely dislike that outcome.