Two Rivers Isle the art of survival

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Her olfactory sense tore away from the tracks, picking up another scent on her radar. Perhaps it was the subtle rustle of branches for which the male attempted to conceal himself behind that caught her attention, as her ears instantly perked with interest. Slowing her haste to a standstill, her muzzle tilted up some to sniff the air more thoroughly. As the sense of smell was the first of the senses to uncover something or someone before the other senses, her nose led her silver gaze to the swath of a tall, grayed figure in the surrounding foliage.
 
The first notability was of his scent, Kingslend. Zsuzsa had not encountered anyone from that pack yet. She merely knew them as neighbors, nothing more and nothing less. The pack scent was easily discernable from what she smelled of the unofficial territories on her way up to these more mutual grounds. As the Saints were particularly possessive of their unofficial grounds (more so than other packs would be), the Acolyte had been mindful steering clear of tripping any landmines with Kingslend’s lands.
 
The second noticeable thing was how tall he was, from what she could see of him from behind the branches at least. He was coated in a drab pelage of grays and silver. She saw his pale-yellow gaze simply studying her in silence. Keeping a neutral stance about her, Zsuzsa turned to where she was fully facing him. ”Using that to your advantage I see?” Zsuzsa remarked with an alto lilt of a soft voice, referencing mainly to him attempting to blend in with the foliage. The deer was a couple of yards ahead some, so any light chatter wouldn’t disrupt hunting from a distance.