The Sentinels the road to hell is paved with adverbs

He came from along the coast, where the air was thick and each breath raked down his throat. As intriguing as the ocean was at first glance the boy had decided to divert away from it; he could not swim, and did not notice anything of value beyond the dry husks of trees. The forest further afield was much more tantalyzing and it was this maze that drew from him a deep inhale. He ducked among the trees, ignorant of the forests true state of ruin.

As he drew his pale self between shadows, he took note of the budding green of spring growth which netted his path, and halted. The boy looked deerlike as he peered at his surroundings; ears up, pivoting, his body rigid while he attentively glimpsed at every shudder of the boughs. His tail was low, dragging on the earthen path, but as he stood poised and transfixed the tip twitched. Something was moving among the trees - and towards this he stared, slowly ducking his head and raising it again like a feline gauging distance.

Although he could not make out the canid shape of the other wolf, he knew someone was there.