Wapun Meadow A taste of winter is on the air

Sorin waits only long enough for confirmation or an exit by the stranger. When he receives the former, he sets off once again into the grass, his nose buried in the sea of swaying gold. the scent gets stronger as he continues, until suddenly Sorin can't make out the scent of one bird anymore. "Judging off scent, I'd say four or five" he whispers, more to himself than the stranger who is presumably at his side. He continues ahead, more slowly now that the hunters are close.

A roosters cackle splits the night, and Sorin freezes, hoping against hope that he will go undetected. Multiple other birds respond, and Sorin's eyes widen at the implications. Four or five pfft, more like ten or fifteen he thinks in amazement. Apparently, most of the birds had come into sleep from beyond where the two wolves where currently. He had hunted large groups of the birds before, but never this many. Sorin stays completely still, weighing his options. He flicks his tail slightly to catch the others attention, before slowly beginning to back away from where he had heard the pheasants calling. Hopefully, the two can get out unnoticed, and come back in the morning.