Lost Creek Hollow dry-aged wagyu

a lumbering beat drummed through the woods, mostly lost to the debris of logs and moss, but she turned an ear in its direction. perhaps the herd had returned for their elder? a rare moment of compassion among a desperate population accustomed to running and to hiding.
no, it was a man. he moved like a great beast through the woods; they saw one-another and the man spoke, but it was not all understood. skuka reacted as much to his tone as to his common tongue, of which she had been taught only a sparse amount.
while the elder looked now in the direction of the newcomer, sightless, it smelled the wolf and felt the tremble of the earth. a distressed bleat came from it then.
skuka's jaw tensed.
she moved snake-like up and away, but only a few wolf-lengths. shhh, Old One, with effort she tried to soothe the creature without approaching further.
a sharp side-glance to the man—not for eat.