A tawny wolf is bounding through the fabric fields, energetically chasing a crocheted rabbit. To anyone with supernatural senses, he smells only vaguely like a wolf, and only vaguely like a person, and a bit like he might be dead. He's small (for a wolf) and rangy, long-legged and big-eared and maybe a bit more like an overgrown golden fox than a wolf, at first glance.

He skids to a stop, though, at the scent of Tuuli crosses his nose, letting the poor rabbit disappear into the felt stalks, and immediately swivels his head around, looking for the source.