Fangs sank greedily through the tender meats of would be bait. No matter its original purpose a wolf could hardly deny the lure of freshly prepared bird nor could one ignore the crisp crack of breading which gave way to flavorful juices and the supple flesh hidden beneath. At least the hound held enough foresight to acquire addition portions, those kept tucked from sight even as they beckoned the senses. He needed those for another for collected phrases pointed to such being a preferred feast of felines as well. Tongue pressed between the points of teeth in wolfish gesture, silent consideration as eyes scanned the fields for his intended prey.

Wolves had offered curious glances when inquiry had fled his lips though August was not left deprived of answers. Likely whereabouts of mewling beasts, those who may tolerate hounds, offered by the scouts. Direction given toward the fallen capitol of Dunmeath for it harbored more than one’s fair share of abandoned creatures. Haunts upon the fields who ran alongside those who still attempted to thrive there beneath self-proclaimed overlords. Cursed beings who had already stolen away so many into the depths of Crue Efros but they could only plague the waking world for so long.

The damned thrived in shadows while all else flourished beneath the sun’s light and, thankfully, the oppressive shroud which cloaked the night beasts’ lair had yet to reach these ruins. The daylight still cast its glow unhindered and banished all unwilling to risk the sear of its rays. It granted opportunity for both man and wolf to wander in relative peace, to tend to their own devices until the dreaded fall of dusk. Such reprieve one he eagerly seized. Steps hardly cautious even as ears turned to each rising sound whether it be the distant snap of bramble and scattered stone or the drawn out call of abandoned beasts. Those now wandered, turned loose within these once thriving farmlands.

Surely some still attempted to thrive here, to care for them and till the fields. Rebuild without the ‘guidance’ of the vampiric who loomed so near. Even now he could spy remnants of crops picked at by crows, fresh buds which broke the soil with new life, and with it all the mixed scents of life. He could search for them, gain their input as well in hopes of a easier search and yet there was little desire to explain his reasonings to them as well. All that mattered was who this was being done for in the end. If he could locate at least one willing it would be enough. The companionship would be good for her, it would provide something that could always be at her side in the comforts of the manor.

It could help her with a sense of responsibility, spur her into some sort of schedule to maintain not only the creature’s needs but her own as well rather than sticking to fearful seclusion when she did not cling to his side. Only time would tell if such a plan would prove fruitful, however, the goat was hopeful. But before he could worry about the future he needed to find focus on the now, discover what he sought and stop snacking on the very thing he brought in efforts to make friends with whatever cats were willing to investigate an overgrown wolf. Maybe he just needed to perch somewhere where tracks could be seen and play a waiting game? A rather boring thought though he doubted any would be eager to run blindly into his company.

Every time she planned to venture into Dunmeath she knew she was playing with fire. Being a mortal in the land that spoke of wolves and vampire was frightening, but she chose to believe that not every single one was blood thirsty or out for a kill. Still. She was decent with weapons, decent, she wanted to be better with her bow, but for now her knife and poison herbs would have to suffice. What was it against a vampire though, they did not die unless staked in the heart right? As for wolves, well, that was a little easier with wolfbanes, but it was certainly hard to find under the wrong circumstances. She clenched her fist together as she walked, her large trench coat covered her back as a pouch hung loosely off her hip. It was the very place she collected her herbs to bring home later and mash into a paste, eventually turning them into the very oils that helped her to thrive.

As she walked along the feint smell of blood caused her to stop in her tracks. She had become familiar now with the smell, though unable to tell the difference between human and animal. Her heart raced in her chest, her brow sweat only slightly, but what was she to do—turn around? They would know she was here surely and she had to beat the temptation to run every time she was afraid. She needed to become better at fighting, or more equipped at least.

She cleared her throat as she continued on, moving the foliage away with her hand while the dead bits of grass clung to her pants. A little further and she found something in the difference, or someone? "Hello?" She called out with one hand tucked away in her pocked, laced with wolfsbane is so needed. Luckily she hadn't and she really hoped it stayed that way. Her gaze rested in front of her, listening to the whistling of the winds as it played with her curly locks.