Excerpt:

The Black stopped dead in his tracks. He had left the western-themed town behind days ago, along with his human artefacts. No use for them, not anymore. He had trotted through his days at a nearly leisure pace, trusting the information the old wolf had given him in the smelly bar.
"Your target is settling in." The man had said, stuffing a beaten old pipe with strong-smelling tobacco. "You want to go south-west. And watch your tail."
He hadn't paid attention to that last part. He was a hunter, and nothing had dared to stand against him for years. But now he stood still, between the shedding trees. The dry leaves around him were silent, not betraying a single sound of a would-be follower. Still, he could feel that he was being watched. Not by the birds or the rodents, something larger, far more dangerous. The Keeper? Was he now following him in the hope of finding his sister, rather than searching for her himself. The Black turned his ears, considering his possibilities. He could confront the Keeper there, but that would be dangerous. The Keeper was no push-over pup, his ability to evade the Black before spoke of some experience at least.
He decided to carry on. It would still be days, if not weeks, before he reached his prey; he could find a way to deal with her Keeper by then. The Black twitched his tail, snorted, and started moving again, soundlessly moving through the dry autumn leaves.
The man behind the tree exhaled carefully.