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

His prey slowed.
Thinking. Earp didn't care about packs. So why should he?
His brows furrowed, backtracking a little, fearing he was too close now he'd slowed. Had he been sensed? Was he too loud?

He paused, looking to see the wolf turning aswell.
Scared of the packs, probably.
Earp quickly scurried ahead like some beetle, and moved towards the path the man was walking. Slowing his stride to one matching a deer, standing to his full height now.
And he emerged, looking like a stranger crossing a path, oblivious to the wolf to his right.

He looked ahead, nose to the ground, like he was searching too for the flock.
He wanted to decieve the man, not wanting him to know he was being followed.