Fairspell Meadow the godspell

A strange scent threaded its way over the tall spires of the mountain. Not deer, not wolf, not even fox. Anselm snuffed and turned to @Emmerich in confusion.

They carried a few meters further when Anselm drew to an abrupt stop. His ears flipped forwards, eyes drawn to a figure collapsed upon the ground. It was smaller than his own stature, thin with a cervine build — and the selfsame owner of the scent they trailed.

Was it prey? Anselm looked to his brother in measuring silence.