Firefly Glen some would sing and some would scream

her muzzle swings 'round at the sound of a sharp bark, coming to rest on a sterling figure. the wind is against her, and she's unable to pick up any details. it takes a moment of squinting to assure herself this isn't a packmate, and then she swings herself toward the stranger entirely, electing to stay up on her ridge. up here, it would be easy to charge him, and she does not deny she'd rather be looking down on strangers then looking up at them. 

"what?" she called back, voice sharp and yet lacking the extent of the anger that had ebbed in days past. auds press forward as she stares, gaze narrowing as she tries to better gauge the stranger's appearance from this distance.