Lost Creek Hollow goldeagle

It was pretty here, fresh and flush with spring. Keen eyes could pick game trails out of the tangle of bushes and wild grasses, each struggling to outmaneuver the other for a scrap of sunlight. The trees held the same contest at a much slower rate.

Tinúviel marked the game trails on a mental notepad, swinging her head in a slow arc to attempt to choose one out of the din. Pigscent, rabbit droppings, the faintest hint of a fox. Nature thrived around her, and she was its arbiter.

Wolfsmell reached her after a time of standing and soaking in smells, and she twisted her head to find a curious creature, wolven with an odd coat texture. Her head tipped to the side before she could stop it, and she was staring before she knew any better. Weary, watchful, but full of curiosity for how the man across from her even came to be.

After a moment, she tipped her head in acknowledgement.