Blacktail Deer Plateau the witching hour

Fin trotted happily along, enjoying the calm, good-natured, well-humored wolf in her company. He had an unintrusive quality about it that made him easy to be around. For once, she wasn't compelled to try and see just what crazy shenanigans she could get into with this new friend--something about him just said.... don't do that.

It wouldn't be the first time she had read someone wrong, if that was indeed the case.

"Well hell, if a midget can do it..." Fin teased. Even at her young age, she was not too far smaller than Fin. At least, she wasn't the last time she had seen her. Maybe. When had she seen her last? Finley found herself distracted by trying to remember--a thought process that lasted only as long as it took her to realize it didn't really matter all that much. What really mattered was the fact that the faint scent of prey was touching the grounds that the pair had just stepped upon.

Fin slowed to sniff at the grasses that brushed against her sides, intrigued. They had been there, but not recently enough to get her too excited. She turned her eyes to Lasher, wondering if he had caught a whiff of anything more enticing where he stood. "Anything?" she asked after a moment of observation.

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