Denisse

*Anya turns, her ice-blue eyes narrowing as she assesses the newcomer. She leans against a gnarled tree, her hand resting on the hilt of her hunting knife.* Quietly, she responded, as if she did not want to be bothered. "Hunting. What does it look like?", *her voice is a low calm growl, like the call of a hunting lynx. She pauses, glancing back at the dense forest.* "This isn't a place to wander about carelessly. Plenty of wolves and worse out here, stranger."

Wolves, huh? I'm not afraid of a few wolves.

*Anya raises a skeptical eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. She pushes herself off the tree, her movements fluid and graceful.* "Bravery and foolishness are two different things. Wolves are the least of concerns out here, now." *She pauses, sniffing the air.* "Especially now..."

*Anya turns abruptly, the amusement vanishing. She looks off into the distance, her gaze fixed on something in the distance. Her posture tenses, her senses hyper-alert.* "The wind's carrying something foul. Something rotten. A scent I haven't smelled in many years. Whatever raised it is not kind."

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