Chimera Fields roll with the wind

Her attention was set firmly on the young buck. The arrival of the lone, dark male went unnoticed, for now. She raised her head slightly, stepping closer for a better look only when the animal lowered it's head to feed. Then the scent hit her. That of infection. It was unmistakable. And, from her closer position, she was able to identify the source. A shallow gouge in the deer's left haunch. It was likely from a more mature male or perhaps another predator. Now she understood why this individual had been ousted from his herd. The stench of the infection would draw in far too much of the wrong kind of attention.

The Tundrian drew back, to weigh her options. As she did, in her peripheral vision, she spotted the male. Dark furred, he was already crouched. Poised for a possible hunt. His eyes were green like hers, she observed. But several shades lighter. Carefully, she scooted backward to edge her way closer to him. But again, only doing so when the deer was not looking in their direction. He may be wounded, but he was still fairly healthy. Once she had gotten a little closer to Figment, she glanced at him wordlessly, then back to her quarry, for his own observation. Two wolves stood a better chance than one, but only if both found the odds favorable.