Emberflame Ridge the new york tribune

The voice that burst among the trees caused Severine to stop immediately, head up, ears forward; years of living among such aspens had made her adept at pinpointing locations, although she did not know the terrain of this ridge exactly—it was startling to hear an unfamiliar voice at all, let alone to have imagined calling out to the spirits only for such a call to resound so soon—almost like a response! But it was a response to thought, not to action. Curious...

There was the stomping gait of young deer, and the quicker, whisper-like sound of adults leaping through the trees and away—and then, nothing. Not even that voice, as it had howled and then died out as promptly as it had come.
She chose to remain cautious and low, keeping close to the piles of leaves in case she needed to blend in, or duck; and she was mindful of the many gaps in the trees as well, in case she was moving in the direction of danger.
The forest was very still—until her angular form moved surreptitiously close to the stranger, coming upon them with a stalk from behind. Her nostrils flare as she studies the stranger as well as this section of the trees, and concludes that this is someone around her own age—and, equally, on their own.

You are too loud. She cautions with a low voice, as if being quiet now had any value; the deer were gone. She was not cajoling as she might be with Noah, her brother. Ears twist, listening. They have gone.