Fox's Glade some internal desire

It was a clear night, and he'd spent so much time studying the local inhabitants that Tulimaq hadn't sought out anything to eat in a few days. He felt confident in his abilities nonetheless, and traipsed through the trees—still less mindful of his potential hunting opportunities as he stared fixedly heavenward. The stars filled the sky. There wasn't a single cloud to block his view; from time to time he'd duck or weave around a hanging branch, and as he walked he imagined the stars linking in to shapes. A wolf's head, a bear, the flowing of a deer herd dancing across the sky—nothing real of course, but he imagined that the world held much more wonder than it did. Eventually his neck grew sore, and so he stopped staring so avidly and, soon enough, was tracking an idle scent among the fallen leaves.

Whilst the stranger cast his gaze skyward, Alexander’s was pointed towards the earth below his paws. He’d caught wind of a fox far too close to his home for his mind to not wander, and was thus drawn forth as the need to hunt took hold; he did not intend to eat the creature whose presence plagued him, but to simply end its life and ensure it did not infiltrate his home. Yet, the deeper he delved into the territory, the greater the scent of another kind grew. Although he attempted to ignore it, to continue on with his original task, the young Inuit soon found himself moving further from the original scent of his interest, and closer to that of his own species. And yet, even as the other was within his line of sight, he said nothing nor even acknowledged that he’d made an error in choosing the trail to follow; he glanced at the other wolf, perhaps even flicked an ear, but kept moving just as any stubborn brute would.

The earthy musk of fallen leaves dominated Tulimaq's world for an indeterminate amount of time. Even when the wind eddied the leaves around him, he couldn't rid his snout of the aroma. It was strong and spicy, a very different animal from what he was used to on the cold mountain of his home. He thought he smelled something else beneath that damp scent, something odious and bitter, but he doesn't pursue it and soon the scent is swept away from him. He pauses and lifts his head, investigating the shadows criss-crossing through the forest and sniffing the cool air at shoulder-level, and finds the scent of wolf.

He turns in time to see a pale figure slip around a copse of trees as if to avoid him, and his interest is caught. They look like something straight from the northlands—a creature of the tundra that could've fit in well with Tartok. He cannot tell if the stranger has seen him or not, bu they appear to be on a mission and Tulimaq has no intention of getting in the way. He's curious, so he shifts his attention and his route, and follows after them. It is clear by the manner in which the stranger drifts between the trees—confident and proud—that this area is not foreign to them. 

The boy wants to know more about the natives of this valley, so he keeps himself back but otherwise holds true to the stranger's path. He tracks him as he tracked the last wolf, and as he might track any prey, keeping up easily enough with his long strides.

Though the distance between them remained levelled, Alexander was not unaware. The wolf that trailed behind him, the steps that echoed his own, were as clear as the day is long. For several strides he tried to ignore his shadow, wanting to believe that it might turn off and head elsewhere—but it didn’t. It kept right with him, kept from falling behind...

It was irritating.

In a matter of seconds the Inuit came to a sudden stop and whipped his body around, crimson eyes honed in on the other. He shoved his ears forward and arched his tail high over his back—couldn’t appear any less than how he viewed himself, after all—then asked, “What do you want?” in his usual, demanding tone.

Much as he had with the slave of the horde, Tulimaq trailed after the spectral stranger with a dogged determination despite lacking any real reason to do so. He was curious about them. They were similar in build, after that initial long-distance glance, to wolves of Tartok. They carried themselves with pride and seemed to have an inherent strength, which appealed to the explorer. If he wanted to get more information about the valley then pursuing one of the inhabitants was the best method.

They were fully aware of him, evidenced by the way they stopped abruptly and turned to counter his silent prowling. The question lilted in the air and Tulimaq wasn't surprised to hear the demanding tone, but he was a bit curious of the accent. It too was familiar. Was this wolf Anneriwok? He saw the flash of red eyes, but did not stare too long at the stranger's colorless face. He was not here to cause offense.

Information. Tulimaq states without missing a beat, his tone light. Despite his size he tried to make himself appear inviting, harmless, which was probably not that successful considering he'd been trailing after this stranger for some distance. I'm an explorer. You look to be at home here—do you come from the standing stones? Now that he was paused, he could examine the stranger with fleeting glances, and even had an opportunity to study their scent. It was earthy like the wolves of Easthollow, but unlike their grassy, windswept, light aroma this stranger carried a deeper scent, with layers of pine.