Blackfoot Forest Wanderin'

Tvar’s pace slowed as his nose caught the faintest shift in the air.

It wasn’t the usual musk of deer or hare—it was that of another male. A shadow in the woods. The kind that demanded attention. Tvar's blues narrowed, sharp and searching, as his ears tilted forward and then backwards again, faint against the back of his head.

He stopped, his breath visible in slow, steady bursts as he lifted his head, scenting again. The trail was close, fresh. His legs shifted, the faint ache in his feet momentarily forgotten as instinct overruled exhaustion.

Tvar moved forward, breaking the snow’s surface with each pawstep an audible crunch. He didn’t slow as the scent grew stronger, more vivid in his nostrils.

Against his better judgement, his jaw unclenched. "Hello?"