Heavy midnight paws struck the dusty earth as small specks flew into the air. Narrowing his eyes, his plume swayed above his rump, throwing some expressions back at his yearling old whelps, and his mate, and alphess. "I smell something," he began, gesturing his pups forth,"Tell me, what do you smell?" The strong scent of moisture clung to his nose, yet signs of rabbit, and moles hit his nose, as well as some squirrel.

Twitching his tail, he waited for an answer, expecting a good one.

Trja growled silently, as he overworked his nose too pick up some scents. Definantly the aftermath of a heavy rain, rabbit. . dirt. . and some squirrel over by some of the dead, rotted trees. Yet there was more, but the moisture just seemed to clog up his scent glands, and make them unreadable. Flattening his ears, he felt an odd sense of disgust with himself.