Boartusk Heights For here he owns, that now and then

Nose to the ground, deep into a fading trace of swine, Piety was at first unaware that he had competition on scene. It was not often that such large details would slip through his watchful guard, but the wolf’s single-minded focus on sorting through the labyrinth of scents before him was more than a good enough opportunity to catch him unawares. As a lone wolf, not much could upend him from a good trail. Except for, perhaps, evidence of carrion: the chance at a free meal…
 
He noticed the odd raven first.
 
He assumed that its circling meant something dead or dying had caught its attention, and the oildark sentinel abruptly changed his trajectory in order to investigate. The wind did him no favors, causing Piety to give a wide girth to the jagged boulder that blocked his view. He was cautious as ever, despite his incurable curiosity, and was back several deer-leaps when he had come around enough to find what was hidden.
 
It was a wolf — regardless of his expectations — inkblack and trim, with a cutting stare of moonsilver. A female, he realized belatedly, and a hellcat based on her defensive posturing. She did not appear injured, and even if she were, times were not near hard enough for him to consider her as anything close to a meal. His tail gave an irritated lash. Why are you hiding? he simmered gruffly, raising his voice only high enough to carry across the distance.