Lost Creek Hollow A Fistful of Dollars

Heavy paw steps and breathing were one thing, but the sound of something that wasn't of nature was another. The golden man perked his head up and swiveled his ears towards the direction of what sounded like oncoming death to him. Is this what it sounds like? To be taken into Starclan? No, Starclan sounds like an angel's choir, this sounds like he was about to be dragged into the dark forest. Goldenwind craned his head up and inhaled sharply while keeping his orange gaze towards the oncoming sound. One after another, like an unholy orchestra, the sounds came closer and closer until a figure could be outlined. Like a cautious cat, he kept a steady gaze on the figure as it dragged its paws towards his general direction. Was he seen?

He had to keep his cool, he was a warrior of Windclan, nothing should faze him, not even the wind itself.

So, the male relaxed his muscles, no, I'm not dead yet, I refuse, and tried to look as calm but confident as possible. Should he talk to the creature first? Even if Goldenwind was once arrogant but he never really talked much, he liked to show not tell.