Wapun Meadow why don't you run from me?

Though half-blind, the fate was not deaf, nor was she a fool. She heard her living shadow trail behind her, felt the itch of a steady gaze between the blades of her shoulders. Much as a hunter took littlen notice of a carrion bird followed its hunt, so the wraith took little notice of the wolf, keeping to her intent without acknowledging the other's presence. The movement of a herd was of a certain importance, carved into the stony surface of her memory so deep that it was something she'd likely never forget.

Only when she felt that she had gained upon the herd, its scent thick and heady in this particular area, did the red draped canid slow, climbing to the crest of a small hill to see her quarry: a vast herd of cervid forming a sea of brown before her.

It was here and now that she swung her head to glance back, over her shoulder to find the one that followed. Her coat was as black as the souls sent to Tarturus, sticking out in the glaring, green meadow like a sore paw. For a moment, carmine gaze considered the woman, though what conclusions she drew were a mystery to anyone but herself. Only when those initial moments had passed did she chuff, beckoning the woman before looking down over the herd once more, taking stock of its protective bucks.