Phoenix Maplewood my buddies, they drink liquor; sometimes I'll go along

He humbly followed a trail.
Stalked it, even.
He'd found it in a woodland area, away from his old home. Dewlling. Sespit of anger and disgusting thoughts which won't be delved into here.
He was average sized, like himself. He wondered if he too was broad or slim. Hungry and wasting or full and fresh.
Earp stopped again, looking at the print marked into a small patch of mud.
Not a very deep impression, so he'd assume the man he followed was much like himself.

Earp trotted now, catching up.
Gaining.
A new scent now.
Birds. Some sort of fowl he didn't care for the name for.
Food. He was hunting a hunter.

Ahead, the crow could see a lupine form moving through the trees, and started to stick the the shrubbery, away from deer paths and the like. He wanted to stalk this one.