Ankyra Sound before blood

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Their numbers were few; the coywolf could tell as much simply by the scents that wafted from their marked borders and the lands beyond. He would not have been able to predict their precise numbers, but he was certain that they did not have many. Remarkably, the great lack of a male presence seemed to intrigue the ochre-tinged Gluska. He furrowed his brows tightly across his forehead and peered at the rising cliffs that surrounded Ankyra. Not certain that it was a place that suited Caiaphas, he wondered what had drawn the dark wench to the seaside.

When a growing scent seemed to draw his attention away from the surroundings, crisp yellow eyes caught sight of a familiar waif. A wicked smirk creased his features and the male scuttled several feet away to cloak himself behind a short stack of brush. His vision was locked on the darkly cloaked woman. She had never been good at tracking. Gluska was certain that he had the advantage in that situation. Drawing in a heavy breath, the coywolf male leered menacingly at the woman from the cover of sparse foliage.