Iktome Plains I Used to Roll the Dice...

Meyl's nose sniffed the ground, lifted up, and sniffed the air. She always said scents were subjective, that no two wolves ever smelled the same exact one - it was a matter of each figuring out what that smell was for them. 

Deer were dusty and warm, their presence not as big or bulky as elk were. They smelt similar but different enough to distinguish. 

It was then she recognized the scent, her voice trailing excitement. 

It's no' as strong as I'd like, but - there it be.