Firefly Glen Running in the same race, same pace

He made his way towards her, and she instinctively took a few steps back, unwilling yet to let him too close. She didn't know him or how long he had been there. She was reluctant to trust that his motives were anything other than ulterior. Studying her hunting style? That was not the answer she had expected. And it honestly didn't make her feel any less skeptical about him. Her expression remained suspicious, her wariness ingrained into her mind by a life that had seen insurmountable grief far too early; she was hesitant to trust that anything could go her way. Why? she asked. Don't you know how to hunt? If not, then he was in the wrong place and studying the wrong wolf; she barely knew how to hunt herself, although she wouldn't tell him that. No need to inform the strange man how inept in most things she actually was. Plus there wasn't much out here to hunt in the first place. The rabbit she had been tracking was long gone by this point, even if her searching hadn't been interrupted. Maybe a more skilled wolf would have been successful where she hadn't been, but she doubted it.