A twig cracked.

Emelethana looked up sharply, her fingers drawing the string of her bow taut. The fletching scratched along the wood and she brought it up, searching, aiming… but all she saw was the Dorejn hound, standing a few dozen yards away. Krejk looked up at her with what she swore was a sheepish expression on his canine face, one paw lifted off the ground as though in surprise.