Gyrfalcon's Keep [m]The More The Merrier, Right?

A scent wafted near. One of no familiarity. From across the rippling waters, the man bristled. His one remaining eye searched, seeking out what—or who—carried such an atrocious, yet alluring aroma.

Tail swaying behind him, a low rumble bubbled deep from within his trachea. Farther along the bank it, he saw it. Them. Her. Or, at least, he can only assume. 

Cautious, wary, he traipses near, chin hanging at level between his shoulder blades. Nostrils flaring, he watches, breathing in more of what had called to him. He was beckoned near by the scent, and couldn't fathom turning and leaving it behind. Not yet.