Deepwood Weald ten hour shift

This forest never made it too easy, twisting and turning into its own never-ending depths. He knew how to work with it, though, enough so to get by thanks to having prowled through the area more than once before. It was a different sort of finesse than what the mountain asked of him, albeit not majorly so simply because the heights had taught him how to read for it, then interpret; he was not so out of place, but he did have to keep himself sharp and aware--this was no casual stroll along some meandering creek, and sometimes, the right path took a little work to find.

Along the way, though he thought the trail of wolf was getting warmer and with it was where the bulk of his interests lie, he still was not single-minded in his goals. There was plenty else to take in too, but again, time had told him to expect the unexpected, and stay prepared, for any and all.

He still was not able to see anything noteworthy, but paused a second to hover his nose over a fresh pawprint pressed into the dirt crossing his path. After that, he tracked it on with a long-slung walk, his posture hanging downward--looking  almost casually as he proceeded quietly. He wondered.. did he track friend or foe? He kept ears up, always, eager enough to meet it even with the possibility today it seemed. 

Which.. when he thought he heard a something not to far to his right, he stopped again, and peered carefully into the trees--squinting, and nose wiggling to fine-tune his directive.

He had to be getting close.