Phoenix Maplewood Rooted inside of my DNA

Now a third scent came to their attention. Before Masque could fully process it, they were pivoting on a paw and loping back in the direction of the rise. They swore they felt eyes on the back of their head, yet they refused to turn and look until they made it to the far north side of the maples. They cleared the trees, only then slowing to swivel again and peer back toward the woods.

There were two male wolves back there, both unknown. The yearling was curious enough that they hesitated a moment, despite their instincts pressing them to head home to safety. Their marigold gaze swept from the woodland to the moraine and back again.