indeed, lurking just beyond sight; a pair of yellow eyes, gleaming with ill intent. häti hunkers down in the brush, eyeing the stranger with curiosity. for a time she sits still, waiting, jaws parted to taste for fear-scent. finding none and thus deeming the stranger safe enough, she skulks with lowered body from her hiding place.
creeping, creeping, creeping.
until she is less than a hair's breadth from the stranger's hip, peering between sinewy forelimbs. then, haughtily, she speaks. "you waitin' for that thing to roll over? hate to break it to you, wolf, but i think it's already dead." nostrils flare, inhaling as if to be certain. "yep. dead."