Neverwinter Forest Thank God it's Friday, Again

Quixote had indeed followed, matching the pawprints left behind so they could minimize their trail -- after all, this wasn't his first hunt.  The cinnamon wolf had more mouths to feed, so it would make sense for him to make the selection, Quixote only knew that companions was plural and that could mean anything from two to fifty. Yeah, sure, fifty was unlikely -- that'd be like, what?  Three or four packs? -- but he wasn't going to argue it.  As long as he came out of this with a good meal, he'd be ok with it.

The main problem with traveling in a line was of course that from the secondary position, things were a little more muted from having a fresh scent poured right on top of it, but even through that, he though he could pick out one that seemed promising.  Surely the other guy smelled it too (that or Quixote had no idea what that guy walked through on the way here), but to confirm they were on the same page, he didn't speak but uttered a quietly inquisitive sound along the lines of, Hm?  He just hoped that the deer arced away from the rest of the herd up ahead so they could see what they were up against without spooking any others.  It was just that little bit of a clue that something was off with an individual.. Maybe it was sick, maybe it was injured, but it was a scent that made it smell delicious to the black wolf, and probably why he'd subconsciously stopped on this trail in the first place.