Fox's Glade gawad

     Usually, when her quarry scents her, they would run. After all, a hunter meant death but this one held his ground, aiming his jagged antlers in her direction. Even taking a step towards her, brave … or stupid. He doesn’t know if she was alone or if others were coming. Antlers could only ward off so much when several pairs of fangs are aimed at him.

     And then ... it spoke wolf?! Or at least it seemed like it. She wasn't quite sure yet.

     Either way, the gig's up — no point in hiding.

     Aliana pondered a bit before she rose to her paws fully, exposing herself.  She stood only a foot short of the Stag. A wolfish grin on her muzzle, sapphire meeting chestnut, ❝Easy. I’m not going after you — I don’t hunt Stags. Too pointy for my taste. Much prefer Does.❞ Aliana tried to converse while she walked out of the thickets, giving the Stag a very generous space, in case the stag decides to charge at her.