[/html]No worries~.
It wasn't blood exactly -- well, it was, but it wasn't fresh -- it was the smell of caution masking fear, and of wanting action masking caution. It was not a prey's wound, but a predator's injury, and injured beasts were the most dangerous of all. Cassandra paused in the night, large ears alert, uneasy. She had taken her time thus far, and there was plenty of time yet for her to be careful. There was always time to be careful.
The footsteps came, loud, uneven, openly aggressive. She drew her cloak around her and touched one of several daggers hidden on the inside, reassuring herself. She remained where she was, a ghostly head floating in the otherwise unbroken shadows of the night. Blacks and greys and earthy browns surrounded her, and she knew she would be easy to spot. Aside from running, there was really very little she could do about being found if her scent had already reached someone, and there was always time to run -- there were only one set of footsteps, and they were a two-legged canine's, not a steed's.
Ears flicked forward as the footsteps came to a brief pause, accompanied by a rough growl. Cautiously, she approached, winding slowly between the trees as she crossed the short distance between the stranger and herself. It was a hybrid man, similarly cloaked, but with impressive furs. He did not smell of the same rocky beach as Ezekiel, but she thought that her cousin's scent was there specifically -- possibly, they were acquainted. Or, possibly, the Infernian had given him the wounds he hid, but which she could smell.
"Hello," she said simply, pale red eyes studying him plainly, unafraid. "I trust it's no crime for me to be here?"
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