Swiftcurrent Creek I'm just a product of the system, a catastrophe.

Since discovering that the pack's adults had dwindled while she spent her time raising her sole child, Wylla had taken a more hands off approach to Tiercel and a more hands on approach to ensuring the territory's pack-scent remained strong. Her two month old daughter was capable of entertaining herself for some time. Wylla liked to call it the Self-Driven Child Experiment. The other name for disappearing from her daughter's side for hours at a time was too unsavoury and she rejected the very word.

She'd grown used to her treks going mostly uninterrupted. She often encountered fresh spots of Durnehviir's scent along the borders these days and figured the other mother was doing much what she was: giving her pups some independence while she took care of wolf life business. She had to admit, it was sort of liberating to be more than a milk dispensary again. No doubt the crimson she-wolf was taking time off for herself. But she never encountered her; not until today, that is.

She wasn't expecting it when she came upon Durnehviir nearing the territory's center. She was just heading out toward the borders herself, but stopped when the woman's blazing coat became evident among the brush. She turned a questioning eye upon her superior, but said nothing yet—her position with the Alpha pair was as shaky as it had ever been and she half expected that her attempts to freshen up the borders would be taken with offense and a reprimand.