[/html]Oak carefully found his footing, claws sinking into the soft bark and his concentration sharp and focused. With a few steps he jumped to the thawed spring ground. The tree had been him home for the night, not as comfortable as his bed in the Manor but a bough was still gentler then the leaf littered ground. He brushed the remaining dead leaves from his russet pelt and looked to the lightening sky. Before him the world was still dim and dark, but dawn was not far off and the Dreamer gained confidence from that. As his name presumed the male was a kin to the forest and apt to climb a tree every now and again. He often looked to the limbs as his place to rest – though deep sleep was never truly achieved – when on the road away from the pack lands.
Alone, with no weapon other then what nature had provided him, Oak began searching for a trail. The neutral lands were heavy with prey, and it was not the first time he had scoured theses lands for a meal to bring back to Crimson Dreams. Blue eyes looked to the ground, taking a knee to get a closer perspective of what may have passed through the area during the twilight.
The hunter moved with a softness in his step, careful not to awaken any burrowed or denned creatures. A scent lingered in the air, one that was not passing but stagnant. Oak slowed, trying to unravel the interesting scent’s coding and understand what beast would carry such a different odor. It seemed herbal, like the plants his mother grew, but the mixture just didn’t seem right. He stepped with caution and all senses on alert.