Dahozhoni Meadow runnin'

He slows to a halt, noting the stranger's body language. He doesn’t defer, though he doesn’t challenge either. Vermouth eyes him, then turns to look to the side for a split second. It's a casual movement, meant to cut through and release the momentary tension. His golden gaze returns to rest steadily on the younger man's face. He moves no closer.

"Are you part of the pack living east of here?" says Vermouth, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the short distance between them.

His tail switches as he surveys the meadow again. It's pretty and unusual, though it doesn't interest him much. There's very little cover for either predator or prey, making it unsuitable for hunting, much less claiming. But he sees thick woods toward the west and decides he'll head there next -- which means walking right past the other male.