Witch's Marsh After the foxes have known our taste

Despite picking his way carefully and quietly through the freezing marsh sludge, Coast was more in the mood of a scavenger than a pursuant  that day. He moved with a hunter's wiles—careful not to be seen or heard—but what he stalked he did not intend to capture. Instead he observed, from a well-off distance; watching the gradual progression of a true hunt. He had eaten recently himself, so took this endeavor casually until the stranger seemed to find something substantial to follow, and Coast perked up and hunkered down with a greedy smile.

He continued to follow from afar, sizing up the "lone" wolf in his silver-laced coat, and determining his own likelihood of taking whatever this wolf might turn up with at the end of this trail.