Fox's Glade headlights flicker at me like a star

Out in the open he knew to make quick work of his tasks, and it was in a trance that he almost moved. Yet for the absenteeism his actions suggested, it belied that he remained aware of his surroundings. His back was not left open to the wilderness, his ears shifted with the change of sounds, and the only thing that lent him a moment of pause was when something seemed out of the ordinary to a familiar threshold.

A dark figure slipped between damp cover and instantly, Dirge tracked him through the timber. It was a short assessment before he knew he had drawn attention to himself and a certain possessiveness overcame him as the other lingered; a stray bone snapped between his teeth as he resumed listening to his surroundings, but he did not take his gaze from the idling wolf. He saw no reason to warn him, the distance between them as much reasonable as it was out of courtesy.

A waiting beggar then, he thought, and spitefully pondered picking his quarry as clean as he could. It wouldn't have been a very nice gesture by any means but it appealed to him for the briefest of moments before he discarded the worst option for the middle ground. The remains were discarded shortly thereafter by a simply flick of his head to send it off into the brush—if his mealtime watcher wanted them, he'd have to go and find them.

With a shake of his coat to free lingering snow, his eyes rested on the stranger again, questioning.