Overture Downs soft light

The broken tree lay unfortunately close to the herd and truthfully Renard could have simply given it a berth -- a log to pause by wasn't necessary -- but they were doing all sorts of strange things lately. Learning. Could have stayed well back in their birth pack and measured up as skilled by virtue of knowing every shadow inside and out, but where was the fun in that? Things got stale. Maybe they weren't being quite as careful as they should have been, though, not thinking about what could be around the corners (a gross error in good judgment but at least one they were aware they were committing) because they had barely reached the island in the sea of grass when a very fluffy...thing...spun around in front of them.

Renard, halted mid-step, blinked. So did she.

"Ah," they said, returning the greeting on impulse more than actual thought, though they had the presence of mind to keep their voice down. "Hello."

The bison could hear it anyways, judging by the snort that followed. There wasn't much else to be heard beyond the sound of singing birds. Renard hadn't had much occasion to encounter them before or figure just how good they were at picking wolves out. It almost didn't seem like they needed it, looking the way they did. By this point, though, they thought that if there was to be any reaction from the herd it would probably be aimed in the opposite direction, away from...

Still crouched, Renard tucked themselves behind the tree. Kept an eye on the -- well, under all the fluff, it was a wolf, it seemed. Easier to tell this close.

"I'm sure they've already heard us." They kept their voice down anyways. Force of habit. "Not planning on hunting, I take it. Just out seeing the sights?"