Heron Lake Plateau I'll get used to this eventually.

Once she was awake, she began to look around for Phox. Before long though she realized she was too hungry to focus on him. It made her feel bad to put Phox in to her mental side-lines while she sought something from the nearest cache, but as soon as she'd uprooted the small pit and found the remains of a half-eaten rabbit things began to feel better. She hoisted the remains out of the cache and began to work at the tough, cold meat. The fur was mostly gone, but what vestiges of flesh and sinew remained worked to keep the compact form in one piece. Camilla settled on to her haunches as she gnawed, and then slumped to her belly, holding the haunch between her paws while she obnoxiously worked her teeth across the meat.

The process took some time, and was quite loud. So when the dark stranger came creeping up on her, not only was Camilla's snout filled with the stale scent of the old kill, but her ears were filled with the pig-like grunts she was making. A healthy line of drool had collected behind her lower teeth and began to dribble out of her muzzle as she got to work on the last few bits, except it was at that moment she noticed the warm scent of wolf as it overwhelmed all others. She stopped and sat rigidly in place, ears spinning and eyes bright with caution, as she settled her gaze upon the roaming figure.

He was large and swarthy, which immediately made her think of the boorish man from the borders. The closer he got the more anxious she felt, but before Camilla could bolt away she took stock of her surroundings and her situation; she was on the plateau, deep in the Redhawks territory. The man wasn't here anymore. Phox had saved her. It was safe. This wasn't him. It took some convincing, and her rabbit-heart was still thrumming in her breast, but Camilla managed to avert the oncoming panic attack in time to recognize Quixote. She dipped her nose and stared at the dirt for a moment, before bravely meeting his gaze, and shyly chuffing a greeting his way.