Her ruby red eyes blended in quite well with the oranges and burgundies of the fall leaves on the trees and bushes. A shiver ran through her body as a gentle breeze brushed her brown hair, and she paused.
Rukiji was used to traveling off-path, wandering endlessly through forests. But the air was different here; she raised her head and sniffed, catching a stale scent that seemed to wander everywhere around here, a scent of one person. One person who had wandered through these parts not all that long ago.
She grit her teeth and tugged her cloak a little tighter around her. The winds were starting to change, and up here in the mountains that change got a little bit colder than it did on the lands below. Pretty soon this pilfered cloak wouldn't be enough and she'd be better off using her own fur to fend against the changing seasons.
Still, it struck her as odd that she detected one person's scent all around her. It wasn't a trail, like someone walking with purpose or traveling--and few people would leave the beaten path to begin with--but it was like whoever it was was wandering. Patrolling. There was a possibility that someone owned these woods--a concept that made no sense to her.
You can't own the land, the land belongs to everyone.
So she continued on.
She came across a pathway, one that she could smell that scent a little more strongly on, and out of her own curiosity, she decided to follow it and see where it led. Perhaps it might lead to a shelter, or the person in question. She wasn't sure, and she didn't really care either way--she had nothing better to do. And yet she still tread carefully, wary of traps or making too much noise, but that was normal for her. She'd learned long ago that sound could be just as deadly as a hunter's arrow, and neither were things she wished to tempt today.
Eventually, with a growling belly she came across the remains of a home. For the most part, it looked intact enough, however there was... Something off about it.
She paused, maybe ten feet from the front door, rubbernecking around to see if there was anyone in the immediate area. Her sensitive ears picked up nothing, nor did her nose. Just that same scent, and even here it was still old. Whoever it was, a man, judging by the smell of it, hadn't been here in some time.
She walked around the perimeter of the home, gazing in through the windows, brushing her fingers along the wall, observing it, trying to understand it. It was somebody's home, but she had the distinctive feeling that that somebody, or somebodies, most likely, as this was big enough to fit a quaint human family, were nowhere to be seen. It felt... Sad. Lonely.
Rukiji came back to the front door, tested it. Locked. She let out a breath. The sun was starting to set and she was still hungry. This place offered shelter from the wind, a potential promise that maybe winter this year might not be cold. She had stayed in homes before, but never for a whole season. She licked her lips, understanding yet again, as she did every winter, why a permanent residence could be so tempting for just such a reason.
She sniffed around some more and found some small twigs, brittle from the cold and dryness in the air, and set to work. It took a good hour or so before she finally got the lock open, not due to lack of skill, but rather lack of appropriate tools. Metal worked much better for this, but no matter.
The door creaked open and she stood there in the doorway, the darkness inside looming. There were other scents in here, very faint and old, but there. It smelled like a family, a family that was now gone. Judging by the look of the house, not by their own choosing. It was too strange; a perfect home, abandoned. She tentatively wandered in, saw furniture still there, bowls and eating utensils, cloth--untouched. Maintained. But there was dust, she found when she blew on a counter, watching the particles stir in the air.
This house was death.
She curled her lips, bared her teeth. No living thing was in here, so she would do further investigations later. She stripped her clothes and changed, padding back outside on all fours and nudging the door closed. She was gone maybe an hour, catching a rabbit or two, eating them and coming back with a full belly and the urge to stay out of the wind, curl up and sleep. She changed back into a human once inside, shut the door behind her and paused, standing there in the center of the living space, chilled by the air inside and still naked. She investigated the rooms, found signs that confirmed her suspicions were right. This house was death. There was nothing else useful to be had.
So she left the other rooms, doors to which had been shut, untouched, and put her clothes back on--a bandit's shirt, two sizes too big for her, a man's leather boots, and a tattered skirt she'd ripped the bottom length off that she'd stolen from a woman she'd found dead in a ditch. Such was life, such was death. She curled up in some blankets she found and settled in to sleep.