Blackfoot Forest just get no blood on the dope

Contemplating on slipping deeper into the depths of the cave, it wasn’t long before the metaphorical land sharks of the Wilds would be drawn by the shed of her blood. The male approaching did not see her at first as she was merely two floating silver eyes in a dead space of black. Physically he was burly, perhaps the largest encounter of a male she came across so far. The closer he approached, his color pops of cream outlining his façade, neck, and chest were distinct fur patterns, unlike anything Zsuzsa had seen occurring in nature before. She had not yet been familiar with the wolfdog hybrids (unknown that this male was just that) so he was an instant abnormality to her. Holding broad shoulders and broad neck, there was a peculiarity to the way he was physically structured.
 
As if she was the gatekeeper at the entrance of this unknown cave, she fluidly rose to her paws to stand. She felt the throb and sting of her nail wound, but it didn’t deter her. She was still two silver eyes, now floating slightly higher than where they were in the darkness of the cave’s entrance. Whether seeing the faint outline of her figure, her eyes, or by the scent of her blood alone, he inquired if this was her residence. ”For the meanwhile, yes.” The Mackenzie cooed back in confirmation. It wasn't solely her cave, but for the night it was. That small inquiry led her to assume he wasn’t familiar with these parts, but Zsuzsa had other questions to ask about him. ”Your tail… how, why… is it curled like that?” It sounded like a demand, but there was a slight fascination in her voice. It was by far the most perplexing feature about him.