Dawn Treader Valley Það svíður mig í augun

It took her a momen to smell them, wolf and elk, and truthfully she heard them before their scent assaulted her senses—there was no mistaking the sound of rushing hooves and quieter, canine paws.

Ase pondered the options laid before her, but her feet—they were already moving towards the general direction of the pair. She had no interest in a hunt, held little interest in the kill, but she smelled the sickness—eventually she smelled it. The sour notes that clung in the air.

That alone was enough to intrigue the wolf and have them lazily trailing after the duo, content to remain unnoticed for now.