Phoenix Maplewood Rooted inside of my DNA

Masque followed the scent of a young buck from the foot of the rise toward the moraine, where they lost the trail. They persevered across the rugged terrain and rediscovered it in the forest beyond. They’d barely breached the tree line when wolf and deer crossed paths in a small clearing and spooked one another quite badly.

The Caru could only stand there in shock, feet braced and heart pounding, as the buck sprang away through the trees. After a few seconds’ delay, they loped after him. Masque had never intended to hunt such big game by herself, simply track his movements. Was he part of a herd?

Another scent wafted into their nose and Masquerade slowed to a trot, then a walk, before stopping altogether. They raised their reddish snout into the crisp September air and sniffed, trying to get a read on the scent. Wolf. Male. Young. Injured?