There, Mathieu. There, Luka. There the trail of something that smelled like the brothers but not, and smack in the path of that trail.... two not-men (death earth ink darkness and the infectious stench of silence) and a true-man woman who smelled like magic and something undefinable even to his canine nose. The night was alive with scent and sound, much of which the two-leggers were probably completely oblivious to - the birds in the tree under which the not-men held guard, for example, little feathered treats to be plucked out of nighttime nests, or the fox den in the roots of a gnarled old pine off to one side, laying low well out of the circle of firelight and the scent of people.
Still, he heard their conversation - if it could be called that - shouted over his head, practically into his ears, given how close he was to the trio. He heard the groan of a bow under pressure, the whisper of feathers against a cheek. No doubt that arrow was trained upon him, if the archer saw him; he was certain that the other not-man did, her eyes narrowing slightly against the silhouette of his ears in the darkness. The mage-woman's gaze went straight over him, however, and off into the twilight forest, searching for the brothers Ledaal, Garrett's accidental companions.
She wanted them to come into sight with their hands above their waists? Okay. Garrett could do that.
He had been hugging the curves and hollows of the forest automatically as he tracked Constans' scent, not realizing till the hailing that he had also clung to cover and been quite hidden for a seventeen-stone predator; now, however, he abandoned the shadows and trotted into the open, all golden fur and canine grace, paws sure, tail wafting slowly from side to side, one ear for the not-men and mage, the other angled backwards to keep track of Mathieu and Lukaer. Once he was sure he had been seen, he stopped in open, sat like the Good Dog he was pretending to be, and shifted his weight to his powerful haunches, lifting his paws up to his chest in classic "sit up and beg" posture.
The movement brought his great furry head damn near eye-level of the mage true-man, but hopefully that wouldn't cause the archer to pepper him with arrows.