Blackfeather Woods Angel of small death

She wasn't alone. Dark ears captured their surroundings, angled towards a gutteral huff in the distance. Synder was quick to bring herself to her feet, everything else be damned, back leg straightened and tucked at such an angle to look as if it were not so marred; she couldn't afford to give any other impression. Her tongue swiped over her jaws as they parted, lingering on her canines before retreating back into her maw. Hello? She called to the empty air, gaze tracing over snow and brush until they found a mound of fur betwixt the trees, and narrowed in scrutiny.

...Little creepy to just watch from afar. Do I entertain you at least? She'd murmur with a scoff, a tease rolling off her tongue; stranger with intentions unknown, Synder opted for a more relaxed approach.