(OOC: Sorry, I'd forgotten this was a round robin. I'll try to be more timely in future.)<br/><br/>The fox crouched lower as another wolf arrived onto the battlefield, trying to shift around so he was out of the line of sight of both him and the mounted wolf. He'd hoped the battlefield would be empty enough for him to move around freely, but it looked like other scavengers had started to arrive. One of the chariot riders, a large tiger, lay right next to him, clearly dead of the hold slashed by a lance in  his gut was anything to go by. He was richly dressed and armoured enough that that pouch on his belt might well hold gold, or at least silver. The fox crounched lower, brushing away flies, and collected it. He kept an eye out against one of the others spotting him.