a different stink

Although she had been told to keep away from the borders - and she was usually an obedient girl - she'd tracked and chased a hare right up until the territory's very edge. In fact, she'd had to perform a radical sliding stop to avoid going straight over the edge and mindlessly pursuing her quarry. Luckily, the particular stink of Abaven's border roused her back to her senses. Griping to herself that she'd lost the prey, Fable turned tail and was about to head back across the river to find another scent trail. When she put her nose to the ground to absorb the surrounding bouquet of smell, one particular smell caught her attention. A stranger? She hadn't heard anyone call out for Theory - most guests seemed to do so right away, sometimes before they even reached the border. Furrowing her brow, Fable decided to follow the different stink. Just in case the scent led her into the face of a not-friendly visitor, she crept towards the undergrowth and slipped into the shadows. Fable shimmied along low to the ground, careful to stay downwind as she went.

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