Pipin’s gait is easy, carefree even as a critical eye that does not match his jubilant disposition takes note of the unpleasant territory he has unwittingly entered the Teekon Wilds upon; until he lets out a strangled noise of surprise as the ground violently slopes downwards and with a step gravity yanks him down without mercy. “Oof!” His breath expels from his body harshly, as if someone has sucker kicked him in the gut as he tumbles into the spiny shrubbery. A few seconds pass as he makes sure that nothing is overly injured or worse yet broken and lets out a low “Owww.” in a stifled groan. He imagines his unnoticed entrance into new and foreign lands to be …a lot cooler. The reality is nothing like the expectation, of course. He rights himself and stands, carefully testing each leg — no doubt looking quite comically as he lifts one at a time and stretches it out and away from his body kind of like an a weird flamingo or something. There are a few shallows scrapes: he feels them sting and smart and some of them, as he pulls at them to ensure he has not broken anything in his epic tumble have begun to split in earnest and seep blood. He can treat them, he knows, once he gets out of this territory.

Now that the territory known as The Tangle { this knowledge is not something he has, however } has his undivided attention Pipinoukhe draws in a breath after he’s standing once more upon all for legs, cringing away from the warped, bone white witch-like tree he realizes he is face to face with. “Okay,” He speaks aloud to break the eerie silence of the territory. “Right. Need to get out of here.” Needless to say, though this place would make for an excellent, creepy graveyard he doesn’t want it to be his final resting place. Despite his deduction he doesn’t move. Rather, he stands visibly hesitating on which direction he should go. In theory, any direction will lead him out of this territory but if he’s not careful he could end up going in circles and never break free of this place and it’s that consideration that roots him in place, needing to be sure that he’s going to head a way that will see him to the exit.

Pipin studies the paths before him, still deliberating on which path he wants to take whilst calculating the probability of going in one giant circle and winding up in the exact same clearing again. The conclusion of said calculation ends in almost certainty and he frowns suddenly, his shoulders drooping as his ears lower to lay nearly touching the curve of his skull. Before he can slip into a pensive, depressive state as he considers how long he can survive being lost in this ghastly territory his rumination is broken by a chuff; and currently it’s the most fantastic noise that Pipin swears he’s ever heard in his life. His ears perk atop his skull and his shoulders rise at the prospect of company and relief that maybe he will make it out of this creepy witchy-eat-your-pups-for-supper territory after all! Despite the protest in his muscles, and the smart of his shallow scrapes from his earlier fall he turns to face the stranger with renewed vitality in his movements: becoming animated once more.

“Oh! Yes, hello!” Pipin greets the male with his usual friendliness, his tail wagging amicably against his hocks as his pale, Champagne golden gaze takes in the stranger, ghosting forward a few steps though mindful to keep ample distance between them just in case. “Are you from around here?” Pipin inquires hopefully.

The answer that Pipin is given isn’t, admittedly, the answer he’d been hoping for but in lieu of it all he’s not overly disappointed — even though there is a soft ”Oh,” that escapes his lips. There was at least a fifty, fifty chance of the stranger’s answer going either way; a fact that Pipin had not been ignorant to. “Ah, well,” Pipin draws in a deep breath and offers a sheepish grin to his companion. “I’m looking for the exit, actually.” He’s become trapped in The Tangle’s maze-like …tangle, predictably. It’s very like him { this is surely what he gets for never paying attention during those scouting lessons with his father }. “I’ve got the feeling that it would be easy to just go around in circles and not even realize it.” Pipin explains, subtly informing the stranger that he’s lost whilst trying to spare himself the full-on humiliation of coming right out and saying it. “I’m Pipinoukhe, by the way. Pipin for short. Pipinoukhe’s a bit of a mouthful and no one calls me that anyway besides, of course, my parents.” He offers as an introduction. When he realizes that he's been rambling a little bit, he offers a slight grimace and his ears flutter back to half mast in a partially sheepish, partially apologetic manner.