Seaside Moors Chere, mo lemmé toi

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There was something distinct that she'd begun to notice about the scents she experienced, and how the more time she focused on her trade, the more she noticed that each different creature had a different smell. It could tell her the species and sometimes the gender of the creature, should they leave behind a marking. She could track something quite easily if it was bleeding, or if something about it smelled stale and off, then she knew it might have been infected and therefore easier to catch. The individual wolves in the pack each carried their own scent, which had natural trademarks but was also influenced by their travels. A wolf visiting the shoreline would carry the scent of salt and seaweed in their fur, and one from the woodlands might smell more like cedar. While the world was beautiful enough just to her eyes, she also found that the scents she was beginning to learn to identify were just as diverse and exciting.

She began to trot through the scrubby moors, following the scent trail toward the tuft-like lavender bushes that grew in clumps, stopping to sniff a bit longer at one or two of them, occasionally looking back at her mother excitedly. She could smell the mouse much more now- and she knew she was getting close. So when she found a small hole at the base of a clump of sea lavender, she thrust her littl nose into it, only to find that she could smell the mouse, but she couldn't possibly see it. She flopped to the ground and peered in, and clicked her teeth together as she huffed. All this tracking- and the mouse had hidden itslf away in its burrow like a coward! This would not suffice.

Like a young filly she tossed her head, and crow-hopped sideways to express her disapproval, before she launched herself at the tiny hole in the ground, and began to dig furiously, kicking back pawful after pawful of light coloured sand and earth, hoping she could eventually dig her prey out.