Redtail Rise fulvous

Gavrel lingered around the taiga. Today he found himself near claimed land, the smell of wolves crawling like fog down the mountainside. It was of no surprise, but of some anxiety to him when he glimpsed a pack wolf from afar.

He paused, the look on his face almost quizzical. He had never seen red fur on anything but a fox -- like the one hanging from the stranger's jaws. Her and the fox's features united them in some folkloric way he found satisfying. An idle thought crossed his mind: you are what you eat.

Then he remembered himself, where he was. Close to pack grounds, maybe too close; he hadn't been careful enough. His ears flattened themselves tight against his head.

He looked gangly and uncertain, even from a distance, but did not move to leave just yet.