Hoshor Plains mal de ojo

Flicker decided snooping was for the order of the day. She’d waywardly told Damien that she’d stay away and she did. Within reason. The towering peaks of the cowards' fortress tipped the sky in the distance. Always just in sight. She kept low in the summer grass, appearing as nothing more than a fox from a distance. The camouflage of a sly creature such as that seemed fitting. 

In the debilitated rise of dawn, a wolf trudged through the meadow, seemingly disgruntled. Flicker halted, watching like a lioness. Once she realised this figure, perhaps six large paces away, was one she didn’t recognise, she stood. 
She was looking for a spy after all. 

“Howdy” she called out; hoping to grab the attention of her new information source. “What’s yer name?” She decided it was best not to throw too many questions at the woman, just in case she wasn’t open to this confrontation. Though Flicker decided she could probably reel her in with the promise of adventure.