Whitefish River you only like me when i'm numb

gasps

there is a presence. a man. a stranger. he heard the footsteps, and then came the strong scent.
immediately the young redhawk bristles, ears twitching in visible paranoia as he whips around like a startled feline. he crab-walks before he comes to a soft stop, a new suspicion to his gaze.
he would be the first to speak, decidedly. who're you? and what do you want?