Otter Creek if only for a while

Another's scent drifts into her nostrils, almost mimicking the metallic scent of her meal, though this is distinctly wolf. Hackles bristled and ears perked, Zhenya lifts her head slowly and scans the premises with a low rumble in her throat. Xто са мной? she calls out, hoping the guttural sounds of her mother tongue will leave a bit of intimidation in the other. Should it not, she prepares herself for battle, all the while keeping a neutral face. Пакіньце. The rumble grows louder, showing her discontent with an intrusion upon her meal, though she would rather not have a conflict erupt.