Silverlight Terrace My competition can't see me 'cause I don't own a mirror

He’d followed the scent of the hare down the mountain and onto the terrace. The shade had not ventured far before the scent had faded, only to be replaced by the aroma of an unknown figure. The overwhelming fragrance was one that had overpowered his previous tracking. The young Ostrega had been directed toward where the passerby had been until her scent had picked up and carried a stronger balm. Atlas followed it, his pace increasing with each powerful leap that pushed him over boulder and rocky outcrop.
 
Just ahead of the shade there was a dark figure – dappled with flecks of snowflake markings along her back and shoulders – hunched against the earth with her paws covering her eyes. The shade paused, regarding her with a cautious expression. For several long moments, Atlas did not attempt to approach the stranger. His wary golden gaze remained glued to her for signs of life, though.
 
When the dark girl stirred just slightly, it signaled that her untimely demise had not been met on the rocky terrain. A defensive bark was issued from his scruffy muzzle. The shade then picked his way over a few stray stones and closed some of the space between them. “Are you injured?” the dark young man inquired in a gravelly voice.