Fox's Glade five six seven eight

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Vaati avoids the putrid scent at first, that is, before he smells something else mixed in the potent stink, the scent of a child where it does not belong. It is curious that he does, barely a yearling found wandering in the middle of no man's land with not a clue the dangers that lurk around the corner. He glances around, looking for any sign that the child's guardians roam nearby, for he will not risk approaching if the act would become a reason to kill him; he bears already the consequence of acting where he did not think irreversibly upon his face. The child stank; the outcome of an unsavory encounter with a skunk, blocking out the origins of its pack scent. It is nearly impossible to distinguish where the child came from, where it belongs, and Vaati pauses on that thought. He sees only opportunity when he looks upon the small, quivering child, and considers for a moment the possibility of simply taking the boy.  Or killing him. Perhaps he will; there is none to stop him and motive to do so is abundant for curiosity's sake. Stepping softly, he approaches head down — unthreateningly for the moment — but despite that, a simple gaze upon his face is sure to strike fear in any child. The scar that mutilates his visage is one that gives him a monstrous appearance, something estranged and terrible that he truly is.