The Tangle bleak

Hunting land prey was not her forte, not by a long shot. Still, when the sea gave her little to scavenge, she had to find food somewhere, and while she tended to avoid the area for personal reasons, it was the scent of rabbits that drew her in. She snuffled about, whiskers pushing through dried leaves as she sought a recent trail to follow. When winter came, it would be easier, she thought- their tracks would lead her right to them. 

She smelled the other wolf before she heard them- and the scent alone was worrisome enough. She crept through the undergrowth, until she could hear the faint draw of breath nearby, slow, laborious. She peeked through a clump of thistles, past the billowing fluff of their seeds to spy a slender figure prone on the ground. She sidled forward, briefly thumbing through the maze of a path she'd taken to get to this point in the thicket so she could run back if she had to. 

Others might not have wasted time, but something about the situation seemed off. He'd been in a fight, not long ago- impossible for her to tell at this distance if he was still hunted or not. 

She whined softly at first, and then again, watching to see if he would wake, or if he was truly unconscious.