The pale-furred bitch rooted around in the field of flowers, searching for signs of deer mice or any other small rodent. Little as she was, it was small game that made up the majority of her loner's diet, but then, Endellion was a professional when it came to hunting their ilk. She was faster than many of them, and her quick bursts of speed gave her an advantage. Still, in this tangle of greenery, it was almost impossible to discern their movements. Endellion could hear them, but when she searched for them, there were no signs.

Frustrated, the she-wolf lifted herself into a sit and panted lightly, casting about for some telling sign of animal presence. Her ears swiveled overhead, then tilted toward a figure moving in the distance. Another wolf, dark of hair, moving steadily toward her with a gait that spoke of exhaustion. Endellion's lips twitched into a scowl. She watched the other woman from afar from a time, content to remain apart from her—she was a wolf who walked alone, but more than that, she was an opportunist, and this one presented no opportunities.

It was the acrid stink of smoke that made her freeze in place, hackles flaring to life along the lines of her shoulders. That ugly scowl on her face twisted into a snarl, and then Endellion was on her feet with her ears flattened to her skull. It was animal fear that shone in her eyes. She wouldn't get near the bitch who smelled of smoke and fire—those were things no sane animal would trifle with, so this one was either mad or accursed. Either way, Endellion's prickling display was made in hopes of warding Shayde off. She wanted naught to do with those who played with fire, nor did she want that stink driving every prey animal away and forcing Endellion to hunt elsewhere.