Gyrfalcon's Keep My eyes are made of acid

This place would make for a good hideaway, she thinks as she climbs and explores all the nooks n' crannies, the way a child might squeeze between gaps in the wood or clambor over stone. She was much too big for most of these avenues, a fact Farren resented in a quiet way, but that didn't stop her tryin'.
A scent crosses the animal path before her and she thinks, fox? But no, it's not so foul as fox musk - that'd be like piss. This was something sweeter. Intrigued, she pressed on and began to properly hunt down the rest of the trail.
Funny how women are called foxy by their men, like that's a good thing. She muses under her breath, and mindlessly bypasses an offshoot to the trail which would have brought her straight to the shadow. A second later she is back-tracking precisely to that fork in the road, head up, curious.