and closer still to its source the trace grew tongues , told of needs and desires and soft and tender caring , and of invitations , and of loneliness , and of hopes , and of threats too of others possibly homing in on the same yearning , yes within a hundred or so yards you could tell , you would know whether the scent , the trail , the tendril was shared by others , and thats where you had to make your choice : drop it or fight .