Shadewood locked up, naked with socks

@Ginsberg
looks like i did have time to throw smth up tonight

She has been away from home more often than not lately.  She does not want to leave, per se, but she does have a wanderer's paws.  

The Shadewood is somewhere a bit closer to home that surprisingly still held the novelty of uncharted terrain.  It was a wide expanse of woods, nearly fifty miles from tip to tip.  Perhaps this would be her new haunt.  The Thicket was not as secluded as she would like, and as far as she knew, it was less likely that a packmate would run across her here if she ever needed the privacy.

The canopy overhead is thick.  It shields her from the winds of the coast and the heat of direct sunlight.  Not a bad place at all, she thinks as she bends her head to lap up some freshwater from a passing creek.

thaaaaank youuuu

The creek had been her guide as she trekked through the wood. The shadow seemed to take comfort in the babbling of passing water. Every so often, she would move herself toward it and dip her paws in the most shallow portion of it. With a watchful eye, Ginsberg lowered her mouth toward the liquid and lapped up as much as she could stomach. When she could feel it slosh around inside of her, she pulled herself out of the creek and continued along her path. The shade that was cast overhead was comfortable enough that she seemed to linger for a little too long in the territory. It didn't take long before the scent of another caught her attention. In a few strides, she locked her eyes on the shape of a firebrand in the trees.

Ginsberg froze, her coat came to life and she drew her ears until they stood stiffly atop her skull. The water that had cooled her limbs had spiked there, crusting her paws in dirt and mud. It seemed that the territories there were rife with the bodies of strangers. It was surprising to her that there were so many who had sought to live their lives in the same stretch of land. The wind was against her, carrying her scent directly toward the orange-furred wanderer.

The wind is fickle and Ceara is not the best at tracking, but it favors her today.  On the other side of the creek in the distance is a shadow with a paralyzing cyan gaze.  The stranger is prickled, with raised hackles and ears pressed forward.  

Ceara stiffens.  She paces across the creek and stops a good distance away before she calls, Y'alright?

kek i am sorry for the wait

Ginsberg knew better than to expect that she could stop her scent from traveling to the stranger. Instead, she did what she could to make herself appear a little larger than normal. The shadow loomed where she stood, sea green fixated on the firecracker shape that had stopped at the creek. For all of her worrying, it seemed that the stranger was kind enough to issue a question about her wellbeing. The wildling was only moderately surprised by this. The wolves in the Teekon Wilds had proven themselves to be quite amiable upon first approach; she had yet to cross paths with one who meant her harm. Still, it did little to ease the stiffness of her frame or the wild rigidity of her dark coat. It stood like quills along her neck and shoulders, swaying with the pulling of the breeze.

“You surprised me. I didn’t expect to see a fire move through the brush,” Ginsberg returned, drawing her skull upward and offering a confident smirk. Without knowing anything about the stranger, the wildling could have assumed that the other was either passing through, or belonged near to the territory. Either way, Gin wasn’t keen on offering a rude word when the stranger had done nothing to provoke it.