It had taken her some time to figure her way out of the creepy grove and upon a river flowing south.  When she’d gotten out, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders.  Fisher finds a resting spot a few miles down the bank of the river.  It’s the first time since she left her former home.  Full feeling had started returning to her feet and the burn of her aching limbs had subsided.  Her thirst had been quenched and her stomach filled enough to keep going.

Having come across several wolves that didn’t know who she is or where she’d come from, the voice in the back of her mind—you best keep running—had begun to fade.  It lingers still but it doesn’t grip her.  A recharge had done some good but now she is left facing winter without a home, without any wolves for support, and Fisher confident on the outcome.

Looking for a new pack doesn’t settle well in her stomach, feeling a lurch deep in her gut.  She shuffles a few steps down the river bank, trying to clear her mind.  Fisher drinks from the murky water and wrinkles her nose at the taste.

Ilya was perched calmly on a rock outside the old packs territory. She hadn't been inside of it ever before but the stories she'd been told something strange had occurred there. She dared not venture in without her pack, she felt anyway. The black fae was sitting beside the Mudminnow river, and to her it appeared far less drinkable than the smaller streams in her own pack territory, but she wasn't using it for drinking right now. She was going to try a new method of hunting, using this rock. The hope was that animals would come to drink from the river and she would see them before they got here being so high up on the boulder. She would attack before they reached the river. She had never tried out the technique before, but she wanted to attempt nonetheless. Perhaps if she just waited still enough and long enough, prey would come to her. 

So far, nothing.

Although when an tawny coated female came running beside the river in the distance Ilya grew a bit concerned. She watched the wolf with a still blue gaze, blinking only when the wolf went out of sight behind a hill. Eventually, she slowed, and eventually she grew closer. Soon, the wolf was almost right in front of her and began to lap at the dirty water beneath her. Ilya let out a nervous chuckle, watching her with a suspicious yet worried gaze.

"You know," she began softly, "there is far more drinkable water around here." 

Fisher shakes her head to get rid of the taste from her mouth but she'd gone without water long enough. It doesn't even get rid of the taste and so she looks back up the bank for a patch of grass she can chew on to eat to help combat the intrusion. Her toes squish in the mud, and she nearly skips coming back up but she hears someone talking to her at the same time. Fisher's head jerks to attention to see a darker female, a smile on her face, and all she can manage is to lift her lip up in warning. 

"I don't need your help," the brute of a female spits out. She curses herself for not paying attention to where she was going, stumbling across someone that manages to catch her off guard. She certainly wouldn't be able to survive the winter if she didn't pull herself together. 

There's a quiet rumble in her stomach Fisher is only able to feel. She'd eaten a few days ago and it didn't last. It had been enough to give her a chance to rejuvenate but it would only last her so long. The large female sighs in frustration before she turns to the west.

Fisher’s jaws open to complain about the joke of her name but she snaps her teeth shut when she realizes she hadn’t given her name yet.  Maybe she is someone from her old pack that knew her but she doesn’t seem familiar.  Nonetheless, her scent had other wolves attached to her fur that made her think she is apart of some other pack than her own.  

She does stop and turn, pointing her form back to the river she’d been walking away from.  Her gaze doesn’t drop from the dark female’s face, holding her gaze.  A challenge, maybe.  A threat.  

“What does it matter to you?” Her tone doesn’t change, lined with razors and acid.  She isn’t on the border of a pack seeking refuge and yet she is being pestered.  For what, fun? “Y’can’t hunt in the water anyway,” she adds, throwing her nose back to the river.  “Can’t even see what’s below the surface.”  Minnows occasionally pop up and they were concentrated in one spot and were hardly more than a snack.

The girl doesn’t know when to shut up, it seems, and plops down in front of the larger female.  Fisher’s eyes narrow as she’s taunted—her happy-go-lucky façade begins to get under her skin.  Her point didn’t make much sense because within a few weeks, the water would be frozen over.  Winter in the north didn’t play around.

“I said I don’t need your help,” she insists again.  The fur on the back of her neck bristle.  Her shoulders tense and she takes a step back to put space between them.  Her jaws flex and she resists the urge to snap.  “Do you just go around shoving your nose in everyone’s business and then insult them?” Fisher drawls, suddenly filled with questions she couldn’t bring herself to ask.  

She rolls her eyes before she takes the steps back a little closer and sneers, jaws opening and snapping forward at the black wolf’s muzzle in warning.  Maybe this body language she would understand.

"Only to assholes... and when I'm bored," Ilya responded, gaze narrowing as she watched the wolves body language. She watched her muscles tense as she moved and almost in slow motion did Ilya find herself jerking her head back to avoid being snapped at by the larger wolf. The other fae's teeth closed on her nose regardless of her attempt to move back, seeing there wasn't much time for Ilya to respond. There was no true wound of blood, only an awkward pain from her black nose. She let out a snarl, her hackles rising and shoulders squaring. 

"Do that again," Ilya taunted, teeth bared and gaze locked.

Fisher didn’t snap her jaws together to damage, instead to warn and cause discomfort at most.  A warning to shut up or she’d do more damage.  Ilya finally responds and snarls, taking a step back and setting herself up for an incoming impact.  A growl rumbles deep in her chest as she waits, Ilya’s demand heavy on her lips.  She digs her feet into the ground to steel herself, locking the springs in her legs.

She is ready to make the woman eat her words.  She’d make her regret ever bothering her.  The spring frees and she lunges for her face with jaws open, using whatever force she can muster on an empty stomach and tired limbs.

Ilya was much more prepared for this attack, and at the attack of the fae she ducked, raising her head quickly to ram it into the larger fae's exposed throat. She hoped to knock the wind out of her, but more or less received heavy bites to the back of her neck and ears. That was her fault for not moving away fast enough, she didn't truly anticipate the weight of the wolf either. Ilya let out another snarl, using all her might to shake the female lose taking steps back and shaking out her coat, blood seeping through her fur from the back of her neck down.

Fisher misses the black wolf’s snout but she is able to grab the back of her scrub and reduce some of the impact on her chest.  The top of her head hits the curve of her throat, making her eyes nearly bulge out of her head.  Her jaws clench and she chokes through with the attempt of throwing Ilya to the ground.  Her goal isn’t acquired; Ilya jumps back, flesh ripping through her teeth.  Fisher’s caught off guard for a second, trying to catch her breath from the impact of the woman’s hard head.  

“You’re gonna regret that,” Fisher tells her, voice hoarse and straining.  The taste of blood masks the taste of the murky water that had been lingering and the smell infiltrates her nose.  Fisher snarls, showing her teeth as she makes another attempt to lunge forward and take the smaller canine to the ground.

Fisher makes her mark, slamming into the dark female, trying to push her further back toward the water.  It’s muddy and Fisher isn’t able to get much traction, her feet occasionally losing its grip and threatening to slip out from beneath her.  Her claws grip into the mud but it doesn’t offer any resistance.  A growl rumbles deep in her throat when she thinks she has her footing.

The very reason she’d been kicked from her last pack and she couldn’t shake the habit.  Ilya hadn’t antagonized her as the others had but she didn’t know when to keep quiet and Fisher wanted to leave a scar across her face muzzle to remind her.

She narrows her eyes and lunges again, jaws open, but when her front feet hit the ground again they land without much impact, sweeping out from beneath her.  She snaps her jaws shut and slings a leg forward as she goes for the ground.

Fisher’s jaw snaps together when it hits the ground and the other wolf doesn’t waste time to get on top of her.  The larger wolf groans and she can’t get herself up against the wet ground.  Her chest smears into the dirt as the wolf speaks.  She woman doesn’t listen until she’s pushed further into the ground.  

Get Lost.

It takes several embarrassing moments and getting away on a bad ankle isn’t doing her any favors but she turns tail and leaves the wolf alone.