Lost Creek Hollow forfeited

He'd come across the scent of wolf a few days ago, and while that itself wasn't an oddity it was the strangeness of the scent. The foreign quality to it. These wolves, whoever they were, came from somewhere vastly different from all that he knew; so he followed after them, his mission temporarily delayed for the sake of curiosity. Tulimaq could be stealthy if he wished to be—his heritage demanded as much. So he took to following the roaming horde until they crossed in to the wilds, and then did what came naturally, and waited until one of the weaker individuals split off from the rest.

In this case, he ended up following Mengu until the pair of them were alone together. He could not tell how old the stranger was as he tracked them, but they seemed somewhat healthy. When a river cut across his path he was waylayed for a few minutes, hunting for clues and scents and whatever else he needs, and crosses the lazy river so that he can continue his investigation. The forest looms around him, but he doesn't feel comfortable in the thick dark of it all—no, Tulimaq is much more at home among the mountains, or in the open space of the north.

He sighs and grumbles to himself, something in some other language. Cursing the target of his interest, or maybe his own curiosity, but he doesn't delay for long—soon he finds a trail, and begins to follow it fresh.