Golden Glade I think I'm moving but I go nowhere

Wildfire had just stopped to sniff at the spoor of a passing herd—she was looking for small game but nonetheless wanted to take note—when two fresher scents wafted into her nose. She didn't quite jerk her head, though she raised it swiftly and peered into the surrounding darkness, plucking out two distinct figures. The first and closer one was a gray wolf of small stature, though she was larger than Wildfire. Off to the side, a darker figure approached, the resemblance to Peregrine so immediate and uncanny that recognition was instant despite all the time that had passed; it was Phox.

Perhaps this was Camilla, then, or some other member of the Redhawks whose name Raven had mentioned. Or so Wildfire thought, until her younger brother moved even nearer and, despite the darkness, she noticed the look on his face and the tension in his body. She deduced that the she-wolf must be a stranger to him. Wildfire stepped closer, closing ranks with her sibling, eyeing the stranger warily but not bothering to posture. She was an ambassador by nature and by nurture, though she didn't say anything, instead waiting for the other wolf to speak first.