Jade Fern Grove Fractals

One ear flicked as annoyance surged up in him, but the priest was quick to choke it back. He had never taken kindly to rudeness, though he was much better at handling it now than he was as a youth. Here he was, being friendly, and trying to help, and she--well. Phocion supposed it was the dead of winter, and everyone was on edge.

"I wouldn't ask you to," he responded coolly, leveling his gaze with hers. "Whatever you kill is yours." His tail shook in a single, succinct wag. "I'll even stay off your trail. Hunt on my own. If I take down something big, you can share."

She was alone. He knew this by her scent, devoid of the mixed pack-smells that marked the pelts of his Bearclaw compatriots and the wolves of Easthollow. She had been alone for some time, too. Phocion didn't pity her, exactly. But he knew what it was to be alone, and hungry, without help. Bearclaw's caches were fairly adequately stocked; even if he came home empty-handed, it wouldn't a total disaster. But for this lone woman? A catch was essential.

He trotted off to the side, watching her from the corner of his eye while his nostrils flared, trying to pick up different smells, different scents. He hoped he could find something larger than a snack; he would feel bad, eating while this woman went without.