Fox's Glade reykur

the smoke was vicious.
he was tracking again, sniffing around for that darkfurred bastard. he'd kill the fuckin' shit, so he would, ripped face be damned. it wasn't enough.
but now he found himself amid the grey wreathing. the man snorted, coughed.
he was about to depart when the sound of small footsteps caught his ears. a fox, perhaps, escaping. but the sound was not so precise as one of them.
his red eyes narrowed. he thrust his face dragonlike in that direction, catching the scent of the woman's pack.