Thyri moves through the tall grasses of the meadow: dry and brown, bowed beneath the weight of the dusting of snow that has recently fallen. She hears the crunch of it beneath her dainty steps, feels the chill of it against her paw pads. She glimpses over the tall grasses: the few that still retain some defiance, some spark of life within them sway against her chest rising to be nearly taller than her. She’s always been small and lithe but the musculature of an amazon is evident beneath her pelage: an agouti mixture of champagne and cremé. Caramel eyes scour all that she can see of the snow dusted meadow as her head lifts to peer over the tall grasses. The sylph pauses for only a moment, her attention diverted to the ground where she has stepped on some berry or another, it’s red juice staining her paw and it’s sweet scent permeating the air. A raspberry, she realizes as she moves her paw back and bows her head to sniff at it.

The thespian queen allows for the distraction only temporarily but ultimately pushes forward. She thinks fondly of the titan she had travelled with last time, the one she’d made plans with. Plans of grandeur that had never came to fruition but she does not agonize over her own flightiness. It matters little, in truth. Thyri is attracted to power and it matters not whom holds it: man or woman and the titan garbed as a reaper with haunting lantern eyes can ( and will ) be replaced to the thespian queen. Perhaps it was for the better that their plans had not came to pass: it gives her time to hone her infiltration skills: something that once been her primary priority with becoming a queen unlike any the Wilds had ever seen before in ( relatively ) close second.

She does not necessarily think she would have ever returned to the Teekon Wilds. This time: she does not truly intend to. It is simply the path that her paws take her. The Wilds are ever changing: shifting, and growing and it’s always a bit of a mystery to see what will await her; and she can feel the palpable anticipation to discover what is new and what is old and what she can turn her sights upon brewing in her chest.

The change in the season was beginning to be seen. Snow had fallen from the sky and even taken hold in some places. The undeniable sign that winter was over the horizon. Winter wouldn't be for another few months, but whenever snow fell Rouge considered it to already be here. She had ventured far from Moonspear today, that she had done many time before. Today on her journey she noticed the vast change in senery. Not only because of the snow, but how the foliage had began to deplete. In the meadow much of the grass that stayed was becomming brittle and dry. Cracking and rustling as Rouge passed though it. 

She could smell the berries in the air, something Rouge was ok with endulging in, unlike some other wolves. She had been one of those kinds of wolves in the past. The one to come up to another while they were snacking and state the obvious, that they were no substitute to meat. But they were never meant to be a substitute for meat, simply a sweet treat . A treat that  Rouge was looking forward to today. 

But almost at the same time that she smell the berries, she also smell another wolf in the area, female to be specific. She scanned the surounding area for movement and almost missed the small female in the grass. Not shy about meeting stranger Rouge walked to her asking "Willing to share?" to try and see if that would get a conversation going. 

Thyri has no real interest in the berries: her tongue draws across her paw pad, against the sweet berry juice merely to clean it. She’s vain enough to mind the stain and unwilling to add the scent to her own though she knows that just from lingering in this area that the smell might linger upon the tendrils of her fur even if faintly. Light caramel gaze snaps to the direction of nearing footfalls, discerning a black shape from the tall grasses. There is a slight ruffle and rise of Thyri’s hackles as she draws in the stranger’s scent, heavy with that of a pack though not one that Thyri recognizes, though this does not strike the young, self-proclaimed queen as surprising. She knows how these Wilds change and few that remain constant through the months. Empires rise and fall in a span of months, of years here but nothing is guaranteed to remain the same. That it simply the way that it is. Thyri replaces her paw upon the ground, avoiding the squashed raspberry this time and fixes the ebon woman in an assessing stare as the other breaks the silence, inquiring about her willingness to share the berries ( so she assumes ). “They are not mine,” Thyri dispels the illusion that her permission is needed ( though for a very brief moment she relishes in it ). Berries are not a staple of Thyri’s diet and she cares not if the other she-wolf wishes to divulge in them. “They’re too sour for me.” The taste of the raspberry lingers upon her tongue from cleaning her paw, some bizarre cross between sweet and sour and Thyri can speak with a confidence that she isn’t a fan.

With a small smirk, Rough takes a few more steps forwards approaching the light colored female. She reaches for and take a few bites of the berries, taking a few moments to really taste them. Then the sour taste set it, which caused her face to change slighly before returning to normal. "I can see what you mean." she commented, but proceeded to continue to nibble on the berries from time to time. 

No closer to this female she could smell more of her, rather then the berries. It was a solid scent, one that wasn't mixed with few others, like a pack wolfs pelt would be. "So if you didn't come to snack on berries, what did you come here for?" Rouge asked always curious in a sometimes annoying way. She wanted to know what this lone wolf was like, her intentions. Was she a loner by choice, ect.