Sleepy Fox Hollow my tarnished coat of arms

the evening is overcast, his belly and the nearest food cache poet'd found was full. the setting sun casts a dim, sickly grey shadows across the hollow; but poet does not fear the shadows. instead, he nestles comfortably into them, embracing them and shrugging into them as if they were a cloak. green gaze scours the path of the borders as he walks them, leaving tufts of loose fur behind on trees, and marking with his paws.

despite his rocky beginning, he plans to make good on his promise; not so sure that this condition didn't actually hold a lasso 'round his life. poet settles into routine well enough; adaptable and willing to adapt.

he gives pause, head bowing to sniff at the scents before a small snort pushes past his flared nostrils and he leaves behind his scent there, too; ears and eyes alert.

she'd walked, anxiety increasing alongside the distance she'd put between herself and raventhorpe. it did not feel like home, but she would stay. it would be home for her mother. tamar would not be childless. perhaps that was her reasoning for this endeavor. another attempt at seeking out her brothers, or zosime. she wasn't sure, but it tormented her night after night. come home, antigone. he'd been the first to leave. was he dead? happy?

zulema kept her path alongside the vale; what had been home. would they have decided to find their way back? she wondered if this would be the night she'd find them, but as the night drew on the hope dwindled into nothing. she dreaded the inevitable need to turn around, thinking they could be just a bit further.

it was with tired, aching feet she'd seen him. suddenly she was all to aware of the blunt markings around her. her head kept low, ears turning outwards rather fast. there was a pause to her step, paw resting in the air before she revealed herself with the further disturbance of the foilage. well, fuck.

poet doesn't expect to come across another wolf ... but then again, that was a less extreme situation that had ended up with fiona's teeth wrapped 'round his muzzle. it shouldn't surprise him, but that doesn't change the fact that it does. nostrils flare and he moves quick to intercept, easily finding the stranger among the darkening colors.

the snap of the foliage beneath her paws makes him cringe and his ear swivels waiting with baited breath for fiona's quick paws.

with any luck, he can head this off.

this hollow is claimed miss. poet warns her, drawing nearer; southern twang deep. a polite way of saying 'don't trespass'.

zulema retracted backwards, feeling like she'd almost collapsed in on herself. her lip quivered, ready to reveal a poorly prepared and inexperienced row of teeth. she steadied her step now, remaining her low posture. cursing herself, she wondered if it was her own inventions of conflict that had brought her here. she had peace! her mother! it was naivety and anger that guarded the acceptance that her siblings might as well be resting in the ground just like leona.

"don't worry- mister," zulema spat, hoping her impudence hid the shake in her voice. "i wont be staying."

she shook her coat out with that, hoping to straighten out the prickled fur along her spine. standing fully, she looked him up and down. it wasn't that she was sizing him up, but she'd always liked to remember strangers clear in her mind should she see them again.

"you must like being on your lonesome." her voice eased into a normal tone, but still bordered fairly on hostile.

her's was not the reaction poet was expecting. he recoils at the impudence in her tone, in the spit of the 'mister' — making the saint-forge feel like he's being mocked. his ears burn and his shoulders stiffen. he hadn't thought he'd been rude in his warning: just factual. a subtle way to let her know that if fiona came along, she might meet the small woman's teeth.

lonesome? questions poet, who cannot help but bristle at her hostile tone, despite that he tries to smooth his hackles down. he tries, for better or worse, to be smooth. i ain't on my lonesome, darlin'. though they weren't much of a pack ( yet ), his was not the only presence, nor the only scent. there are others here, in this hollow with me.

More than Fiona came along; Anselm was hardly an hour’s breadth settled into the Hollow before the scent of interlopers trickled into his nose.

He coursed the first scent — male and interlaced over the ground as if he’d been here days — to somewhere adjacent the borders

But another scent captivated his attention — female, and much fresher.

Anselm was minutes away from discovering not one — but two — wolves traipsed the Hollow without his consent.

she continued to look for hostility, a venom hidden in his words. with his response, she could find none. zulema felt foolish, her lip still struggling to steady to minuscule quiver. she was not angry with this man, she was angry at everything else! politeness and the fair etiquette taught from her mother and father had done nothing for her. everything had still gone wrong and it wasn't fair!

nonetheless- she questioned her own reactions, her agitation only growing with embarrassment at his level-headed response. fuck, you. surely, he hadn't meant to make her witless but she still felt it at his expense. he'd been nothing but seemingly undisturbed and direct, where she was irritated.

"mhm," she curtly followed his words, looking around them with a satirical glance around.

eating her words, she did sense the presence of another. fighting a groan of exasperation and anger, she was ready to turn tail.

poet frowns as she makes a small hum in her throat, her expression telling him that she was questioning his words. he resists the urge to roll his eyes, lips parting to speak before there is the approach of another.

the footfalls are heavy — so, not fiona, poet guesses — and come from within the hollow. poet, believing that fiona had informed the others of his presence there is not perturbed by the approaching footfalls and offers the woman a slow rise of his brows as if to say told ya so.

little does he know.

Anselm’s author would like to extend an apology for two things — one, the wait on this reply — and two, for the way Anselm crashed into the scene like the Koolaid man in the next second.  

Anselm could not believe his eyes. Not one — but TWO — wolves within the Hollow’s borders. He was so tired of this! What was the point of endless patrol of wolves totally ignored his efforts?

It was the smaller woman that first earned his ire. She was closer to the borders and therefore, easier to herd out in Anselm’s estimation. He swung towards her with a snap of teeth, head low. Get out, both of you. Anselm snarled, mistakenly assuming that Poet was the woman’s guard. His tail arced over his hip as he turned to the man; it was only then that Fiona’s scent emanated from Poet’s pelt, causing Anselm to pause in confusion.

no worries! totally understand :)

an exaggerated flinch rattled the girl's bones before straightening out once more at the appearance of another. her fur bristled, anxious and unnerved by the situation. zulema was still inexperienced in many manners, situations like this being one! her ears fell back to her head once more as the stranger held her gaze, her jaw opened to speak but lacked any sort of vocabulary to convey anything. only when the ashy wolf turned to the other with anger her ears raised once more.

an ill mannered smile graced her features as the man was told to leave as well. not on your lonesome huh? she took a few hesitant steps away from the scene before pausing at the strangers well revealed confusion.

"yeah, yeah." she lowered her head in further hesitation as a question waited on her tongue. "before i- before i go either of you happen to see any others that look sorta like me? ruddy ish, my age?"

zulema knew it was a shot in the dark, and she happened to regret her immediate hostility to him. perhaps communicating her search for her siblings could help.

Vhat?? Anselm spat at the woman and her question — lady, there is a time and a place for everything and this was not it. 

No. Get the fuck out. Anselm snarled, swinging back in her direction with a snap of teeth aimed to encourage her to get moving. 

The man, however, seemed to waffle — Anselm was rational enough to give him a brief amount of time to explain. Fiona. Something about being welcomed.  Anselm’s hackles bladed in annoyance. He’d have to take this up with her later — but for now his attention was on the retreating she-wolf, and whether she really was going to make like he said and step off, or if he needed to follow with some more.. compelling persuasion.

the sudden snaps brought instilled reactions, a quickly moving body in a defensive position and her teeth flashing in return.

"alright! alright-" her canines remained bared in anxiety, irritation, and all things that came with adrenaline. "enjoy your, whatever the fuck this place is. sure its realll important."

"asshole." she breathed out quietly as she turned, throwing a few scornful glances behind her as she stepped away.

she hoped antigone had not run into any such wolves, his attitude likely to stir more than sour words.

There was really no need for such hostility, but Anselm's patience was worn thin as of late. He was burnt out on charity, and by extent, other wolves -- who used and used and took and took, but never stayed around or gave anything in return.

He heard the stranger mutter something, and he saw the flash of her teeth -- but as he advanced, she promptly started moving. It was risky to get hurt with the hollow so short-staffed, so Anselm hung back long enough for her to disappear from view.

He nosed a patch of dirt where she had stood, memorizing the scent laid by her paws. He waited several more minutes, confirming she was well out of earshot, and then he trotted loosely after her tracks.

The occasional bent blade of grass and the odor left by her passing were easy enough to track. Anselm's experienced eyes found these small clues easily -- he followed at an escorting trot until he was certain her tracks carried her well out of the hollow, and then he turned back to make more deposits along the border.