Cedar Sweep pass the wasabi

She took to tracking like a fish—or, you might say, a Bat—to water. She employed every available sense to eagerly comb their surroundings for any sign of Ceara. Much of the time, she kept her nose within an inch of the ground, skimming as she sniffed searchingly. But any scent trails they did find soon grew cold and then Bat developed a pretty bad crick in her neck. After that, she kept her eyes peeled and her ears up, nose twitching as she occasionally drew in whatever odors she could pick up on the wind.

Bat sensed Tegan's growing frustration as time wore on and their feet grew sore. But then the brisk October air delivered something even better than a scent: a now familiar hawk descended right in front of the pair of wolves. The juvenile huffed in surprise, though she recovered quickly and blinked curiously as her mentor fetched a snatch of red fur from X's beak. Bat wasn't even a proper scout yet and she knew what this meant.

She bobbed her head—over-sized ears flopping wantonly—and prepared to follow behind X and Tegan. This involved Bat spinning 180° so that her snoot and toes now pointed north.