She is after a quail, it’s darting head telling her she must be utterly silent, completely still -- and then there is thunder and by the time she realizes the sound is headed straight for her, the Quail spooks off and she is distracted long enough to tangle into four sets of dark legs.
She yelps, surprised more than hurt, and the racket that follows seems to fall only on deaf ears until they stop rolling amongst each other’s legs and she is laid not far from him where she had managed to get out from between and around and through his feet.
Stunned, her eyes are wide and she is looking at him with no small amount of confusion and surprise. It is unusual, to her, to smell someone so strongly scented of pack in these woods. Even someone as young as she is, as new as she is, has had the time to establish that pack members did not venture out alone overmuch -- likely too much to do at home -- and that this was an intriguing opportunity.
“Well ain’ this a right surprise?” She pants, tilting her head as she notices ears do not twitch and her head tilts. “What yer runnin’ from?.” Her mother would have skinned her for her lack of proper annunciation, but then she had no real sense of what “proper” in this place ought to be either.
The leaf litter feels comfortable enough and the stranger was no monster in size for her to worry about her safety just yet, so she remains, blinking widely at him.
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