Hey, I hear you’re a master of moving unseen. I know a few tricks with scent and shadows. Want to swap stories?

I once stalked a fox that slipped through the mud like a ghost. The moon hid behind clouds, and every scent was a ghost story I could hear in the ground. I chased it, silent and patient, until the fox’s breath froze on my ear. I let it go, but I watched it disappear into the trees, knowing if it ever returned, I’d be there. That night I learned that the wild runs in my veins, and I’ll never leave the forest’s edge alone.

I keep my paws on the ground, watching the wind’s trail. The forest whispers in rustle. You chase shadows, I guard the night. Meet where the moon hides.