[/html]Oak traveled with a deep sense of trepidation. His nose was to guide, to lead him in the right direction and not fool him. His instinct told him that something was off and it made him uneasy. He –should– have walked away in the opposite direction and yet he did not. The russet colored male continued on. His steps were slower then normal, but he did not halter in them.
Then a song came to his ears and Oak believed that he was in a dream. It was when the music touched his audits that he paused. The hunter in him rose, and he knew that he was far from dreaming. He was not even in the Dreaming territory, but the wilds of the common unclaimed lands. Paws were light along the ground, voiceless and moved with ease even though he was in his Optime form. The male looked to the ground, a spot nestled in the wood with the scent of the herbs lathered heavily upon it.
Tore bay gaze lifted, and he began tracking by sight and a scent that did not melt among the landscape but stood sharply against it. He closed in easily as soon as he began to follow the scent rather then simply attempt to unravel it. The Dreamer slowed when she, indeed he could catch that much from her scent, was close enough to hear clearly. Her question to the sky made his lips twitch in a bit of a smile. She was as lost as her scent suggested. Far from home? He suggested with a tinge of a question on the end. He stood in plain sight as he spoke, a ways away from the young fey as to not pose as a threat to her.
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