Horizon Ridge your anger is frightening the sand
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All Welcome 
@Wylla, awkward vague post because she always has to much goin on. LMAO.

Furi has never been one to listen to general orders that aren’t directly at her. Leaving Drageda with a guard applies to everyone else but when she’s the guard, it’s different. She doesn’t need someone that needs a guard to go along with her and surely she doesn’t need one either. With caution thrown to the wind, and she leaves the borders early that morning, she swings a wide berth from the sound by cutting through the eastern edge of the plains.
 
It’s early in the afternoon when she cuts her run short, slowing to a stop as the tree line of the ridge comes into view. She’s only been this far south a handful of times and with Blixen, or the rest of the pack, but by herself feels a little strange. It’s not long before anxiety decides to shift her train of thought, distracting her from her surroundings to all the disruptions in her life. With a sigh, trying to rid her mind of anything keeping her down, she begins the trek through unfamiliar terrain.
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In the early morning, Wylla quit the strand for a number of reasons. Primarily it was that she felt weird and out of place in her own home, like she was unwelcome. That very well could be the case, with how often her so-called followers defied her. With each passing day, Wylla felt her confidence whisked away, leaving her self-conscious and yearning to give up instead. They don't respect you because they hate you, whispered the darkness in her skull, they don't even want you there.
So, seeking a reprieve from both her thoughts and the suffocating sense of being in a place she felt unwanted, Wylla headed down the coast. She oft wandered out this way, and it usually ended in violence when she did. She was expecting it, even, though she was still injured from her last encounter with Raptor. So when she spotted someone dark-furred working their way toward the crumbled ridge that she was picking her way across, Wylla stiffened and lifted her head with a cautioning growl.
She rather doubted that Raptor would attack her again like he had, but she couldn't be too careful. Only upon much closer inspection, with squinted eyes and a craned head, did Wylla realize that this wasn't Raptor. Completely wrong markings, and completely wrong shape, too. Feeling both embarrassed of her mistake and disgruntled that she couldn't pound his ass into the dirt this time, Wylla tossed back her raven ears and called loudly, "sorry, you looked a bit like some jerk-ass that likes to hang out on the beach. Didn't mean t'growl at you."
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After a while, things start to click into place. Seeing the fallen rubble from the former ridge, she remembers Blixen and hers exploration of their southern lands before the war. Things had been simple then. Furi was just a lost girl in a new pack, rebuilding her life once and for all. No one warns you just how rough things are going to be on the other side.
 
Furi doesn’t notice the other wolf until she’s growled at, ears falling back against her head and she turns slowly to find the source. All her muscles tense and her posture begins to shift into something defensive. Eventually she locks sight on the other wolf, nose twitching for signs of a scent but the wind blows away from her and offers little help. The other wolf eases up only slightly, at least enough to stop the growl and offer an explanation. For a long moment, she doesn’t move or acknowledge what is said to her, trying to figure out what she needs to properly address.
 
Since the new pack on the sound, Furi doesn’t come this far south very often. Her trajectory is inland, toward the tangle or ravine, so is it likely she just hasn’t run into some jerk-ass. But her siblings have been in the area and neither of them necessarily look like her but their patterns are similar and she hopes it isn’t any of them. “What makes someone a jerk-ass?” she decides to ask, trotting a few steps to close the distance so she doesn’t have to shout and upon further inspection as she’s near, she notes the familiar scent of Ingram.
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Between them stretched a silence that was just beginning to turn awkward when Furi finally responded with a question. By then, Wylla's brows were drawing lower over her eyes and she was starting to wonder if her would-be companion was deaf or just dumb. She was taken aback by the question as a result of mulling over Furi's silence, so it was her turn to fumble in her head for a response.
"Attacks you for no reason," she said after several beats, "well, first he lied to you about your brothers, brought you home to a bunch of strangers and them let them all insult you for thinking he was bringing you to said brothers. Acts like a fuckwit every time you encounter him since. That sort of thing." Recapping it like that only made Wylla wonder, yet again, what Raptor's problem was. Yeah, she'd snapped in his face and bit his paw, but hadn't he deserved it? Didn't he see that?
But she forced her focus back to Furi and away from the infuriating pirate and asked, "seen a guy like that around here? Wouldn't mind tag-team beating the crap out of him if he's been mean to you, too."
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“That’s stupid,” she tells her between breaths, twisting her lips. None of the wolves she’s met outside of Drageda have ever really been awful but she’s gotten pretty good at being elusive and most of her trips don’t cross another’s path. “But no, I haven’t, but I’d help if he showed up,” she quips with a smile, joining in the solidarity. Furi doesn’t like to think she’d attack without reason, but all those awful things seem to be enough should she come across him.

Furi clears her throat. "You wanna look for him?" she decides to ask. A beat later, "I'm Furi."
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"Ugh, I know," agreed Wylla, wrinkling her nose as Raptor's stupid face crossed her mind. She'd give anything to beat him down once and for all, and then maybe she'd stop running into him. Part of her thought it was symbolic in a way that they kept crossing paths; they had unfinished business and she suspected it would never be finished until one of them was dead.

Well, it definitely wouldn't be her. She had too much to live for, and he was ugly and nobody loved him. The outcome seemed obvious.

"Thanks," she said with a thin smile, taking a moment to properly look Furi over. She, unlike her brothers, didn't know Drageda's smell and had no way of knowing this was one of the wolves who had caused her small pack so much trouble lately. Well, okay, that was exaggerating a little; there'd been one incident that she knew of, but that was one too many for someone who wanted to just chill and not deal with it, if you asked Wylla. The girl was pretty in a way, black with blasts of frost that gave her a pattern all her own, but since she wasn't a Grimnismal wolf, Wylla's general jealousy didn't extend to her.

"We can go looking, sure," she said, because she felt confident that Raptor's attitude would change pretty quickly if it was two against one. "He hangs out along the beach usually," she added as she picked herself up from her position on the crumbled ridge and began to pick her way down. "My name's Wylla," she answered, but didn't have much more to add. Wylla the Alpha seemed like a pretty lofty thing to say at that moment, and she didn't want to scare off a potential good wolf, for once.
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The other girl agrees and Furi smiles, despite the fact they had a jerk-ass wolf running around being a… well, jerk-ass. But the way she wrinkles her nose when she’s angry is too cute and she can’t hold it back. Guilt tries to ease its way in, but what does she have to be guilty for? She doesn’t answer to Blixen, and she’s not expecting anything from the other. She’s learned that pretty girls can get her in trouble but that doesn’t mean she still can’t find them pretty. Just don’t bring them home. Especially not the enemy.
 
She also agrees to look for the wolf at large and as Furi had, introduces herself without affiliation. Perhaps she can try and mend the bridge between them, but little does she know it is already turned to ash.
 
Furi carefully follows after Wylla on the way down, stepping where she does (and occasionally looking up to study more of her), and only stumbles a hand-full of times. After catching herself, and taking a moment to re-center her balance, she looks ahead. “Do you know his name?” she asks, before her brows dip down, “and do I really look like him?” because, honesty, the last thing she wants is someone else mistaking her for this asshole.
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"Nope," rejoined Wylla as she came to a halt on a tussock of marram grass. The ridge was a wreck and a half now, but she bet it was pretty magnificent before it crumbled. She paused to look back over her shoulder at its shattered edge and caught Furi's eye for a moment, then issued a tight smile. Felt weird to have someone around who wasn't a problem. Felt weird to talk nicely to anyone besides her brothers, really. She ought to be nicer to folks.

Nah. They usually did something to deserve her being mean to them.

"His name's probably Dickweed or something, the way he acts," she said with a sniff, "but he tricked me into meeting some wolves that called themselves Cairns. Don't know much about them but they were huge jerks, too, so bet he's also a Cairn." Raptor didn't really resemble Sandpiper or Smokestep in any way that mattered, but who was to say they weren't related? After all, Lycaon and her couldn't look more different from one another. "You don't really look like him," she assured the Drageda wolf as she dropped her head to sniff at the grass, then struck out onto the coarse sand. "Just from far away. You're obviously prettier that him and don't smell like ass stuffed with vomit. Fur's different, too. Sorry I mistook you for him."
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When Wylla glances back over her shoulder, sharing a moment of contact, she forces herself to look down and feel the flush of heat to her cheeks.  She takes a moment to focus on where she’s stepping, listening as she goes on about what kind of dumb name he has. Dickweed. Furi chuckles quietly to herself, carefully putting one foot in front of the other as she descends the face of the fallen ridge.
 
It’s assuring that she doesn’t look like him, thankful Wylla noticed the difference before anything got out of hand. But she did call her pretty. Sort of. She’ll take it.
 
“With a name like Dickweed, it’s probably weeks old vomit,” she tosses back, hopping down two long strides to try and make up for slower, calculate steps. Her landing isn’t so graceful but she doesn’t hit the ground, scuffing forward awkwardly until she manages to stop in true I meant to do that fashion.
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She only witnessed Furi's scuff-skip through the sand because she glanced back, face crinkled with amusement at her comment, exactly as it happened. She stopped dead and turned around, prepared to help the wolf up from the ground, but the frosted she-wolf caught her own landing and seemed to exude an air of purposeful clumsiness. Wylla's lips tugged upward with mirth. Some forest wolf or something, not used to the sand, she assumed.

"It's slippery," she said, gesturing with her dark nose at the grains underfoot. "It's not so bad where it's wet but the dry stuff... man. If I hadn't grown up on a beach, I'd have a really hard time keeping my feet here." She drove one forepaw down into the sand and then lifted it up, allowing the small pile amassed on top to trickle off. "It's like if rock became water," she marveled, "but couldn't quite get that far." Wylla was willing to bet that it was possible to submerge yourself in sand, just like water, but she thought it would weigh a lot more and hadn't tried it herself.

"Dickweed walks like a pro on it," she noted with a hint of sourness in her tone as she cast her gaze back at Furi, "so I bet he lives on the beach, too. S'probably why I always run into him here. You been on beaches much?"
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Wylla offers advice when it comes to declining the ridge and she listens carefully. Residing on the cliffs, she doesn’t climb as much as one might expect but they have an easy route out to the ocean where it’s flat and the top of the cliffs offer the same flat surface. Going downhill on loose sand isn’t very fun. Her attention refocuses in her steps so she doesn’t slip anymore, ears cupped forward as the other speaks about the culprit but ultimately settles on her once more, and she smiles a bit and answers as vaguely as she can get away with to avoid any unnecessary drama when things are going so well. 

Ultimately, their search leads them to nothing and they depart ways—Furi making a point now to go the same way as Wylla for a while.
i'd give anything to hear you say it one more time
that the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes