Stone Circle Nose to the Ground

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Tail up, head down. Each day, the territory grew less of a stranger to him; though, equally open and unknown. He knew little. So, he would learn himself.

Morning made him snake beyond the hills, eyes forward with his head pushed to the soil. His nostrils would flare widely, inhaling deep breaths of scent that sat in his nasal canal. Ungulate. He treaded forward, quick in pace with his tail switching from level to high upon the strength of the aroma. Delicate, colorful flora spanned for miles and was trampled below his feet. They offered little distraction; though, muddied this scent, he still could follow it.

He still tracked it.

Deer were not far, perhaps a mile or so out from where he'd started. Close, and that was all he knew. The gage of distance came almost naturally. Bonnie would continue to dissect their trail, steadfast, unaware and yet learning that he was in the Hunting Fields.

Sól paused when she came on the scent of an unfamiliar male, a packmate but one she didn't know. Her nose had been buried in the flowers, taking in all the scents of spring. But now she was distracted. A man, heading for her deer! Sól burst up from the flowers with a series of sharp barks, bolting to clear the distance between them. She tore up flowers in her path, little shreds of petals and leaves flying up in her wake.
She wasn't sure what she would do when she got there, but there was no stopping this train now.

And again with someone on the tracks of his prey. This time it wasn't slobbering on his bunny, as that was worse than a tiny female with mountain lion bones running at him. That he could handle.

Perking his head up at the swift noise and even swifter feet running at him, his ears shot to the sky as his once bewildered, hard set face turned into a scrunched scowl. He too charged straight ahead, kicking up equal amounts of clippings from the flowers beneath them and leaning his head down like a bull to charge, only lifting it when he got closer, and when he finally was closing alarming distances, the air snaps and warning barks started.

Should she stop, he would've too; though perhaps not without headbutting her. 

Sól did not stop. She hadn't expected to be met with anything other than shock, perhaps a hasty retreat. That didn't happen, though.
What did happen was a head-on collision at high speed. Being the smaller of the pair, she got the short end of the stick. Sól all but bounced off of him with a yelp, ears pinning to her smarting skull. She stumbled back, then fell into a sitting position, and whined in outrage. Ow! She said with great emphasis, covering her face with a paw. After a moment she peered out from under it to shoot a glare in his direction, clearly expecting an apology.

"OW!"

Pulling his head back to rub it against his shoulder, he soon lifted a paw to bat at his own face. Rather than a given apology, his maw quickly snapped back to the stranger with blazing eyes and a raised tail as he got in their face. He blamed them. He grumbled in discomfort. "What the hell!?"

With a step forward, his nose immediately inhaled the stranger's scent. Her origins were entirely unknown to him until he'd gotten a lick of her scent up his nose. Then she was no rogue. Some kid. Snorting, he got close to her face before rearing his head away with a look of spite, and some mild questioning. Questioning that came out verbally while he looked her up and down inquisitively, huffing out his throat quickly. "Who are you?"

Had he been wrong? Was THIS Taktuq and he had the brain of an old wrinkle bag?