Deepwood Weald Fell for these Ocean Eyes

@Pestilence

Her curiosity and urge to explore the territories surrounding her own had lead her southward, avoiding the coast. She would distance herself from the water after the foul experience with the Youlong tribe- although she had to hand it to them, their warriors were formidable. If she wasn't the type to hold grudges she might have been willing to work out an alliance. But a feud was a feud and she would eat that fish eating bitch's heart someday. 

She found herself in a wood of densely packed narrow trees, accompanied by an eerie mist along the ground. It reminded her of home, the dizzying, disorienting aura of the place and the near silence of her pawsteps. A wolf that didn't happen to know how to navigate such a forest would easily be lost forever, and it didn't take her long to find the dessicated carcass of such an unfortunate soul, curled up around a tree root, a pile of tiny bones where the stomach has once been. At first she thought it was a pregnancy ended badly, but on closer inspection...she squinted with disgust. The dead creature had eaten its own young in desperation. She kicked a bit of dirt over the carcass and continued her exploration, careful to look at the ground, not too long at the trees.

days came and went, fog rolled in and out. the whelp had wandered from the glade that had sated her hunger for a few days time, driven away by a trio of coyotes that had staked claim over a region of the territory. her paws had taken her far in the time since then, and the blue, red and violet stains concentrated mostly around her maw were fading. her stomach cramped relentlessly, and pest made no attempt at navigation as she picked her way through the weald. 

under her breath, she whispered constantly. an unending stream of words, marked by a hitch in her breath when she stumbled, or paused for breath. "--and d' momma brought the boy and girl a rabbit. it -- it was soft an' warm and they ate it just for them and the momma watched and smiled and she said --" she stumbled over a root, taking a moment to right herself, before abruptly collapsing into a sitting position, hind paw already at her nape as she scratches. whispering begins again as she twists to employ the other hind limb in scratching her side. " -- said she was gonna bring 'nother rabbit and she did and d' one was bigger --" the nonsensical whispering continues as she struggles to reach a spot along her spine, wincing as she manages to break through another scab.

The murmurring was Eerie to say the  least. If she was a wolf of weaker Constitution, she would think the woods she found herself in were haunted. But She was not a wolf to believe in such things. So, curious to see what was making the disembodied moans, She followed the sound. To her surprise, i was a Small pup. 
She normally despised children and had little to no maternal instinct, but something about the pathetic creature in front of her, shivvering and covered in bleeding wounds, touched her. 
"Poor excuse for a mother to leave you alone here." She spoke, her voice creeping with it's unmistakable coldness. "Then again...you don't exactly look like the picture of health. Perhaps she left you to die..." 

the instincts endowed upon the girl are not particularly strong, but the woman before her manages to send off a few alarm bells. her scratching comes to abrupt end, although little shifts and twitches are still to be noticed as she fidgets. there is a long moment between the end of the woman's sentence and the rasp of her own voice, in which she decides she does not like the woman before her. "-per -- perhaps you should die." she suggests, voice hoarse, as she lurches to her paws, edging away as she searches once more for a clear path through the weald, away from here.

A long pause, and then a fearful threat, and the pup attempted to skitter away. It wasn't difficult to keep up with her, and She easily headed her off. 
"Well that was rude. You should learn to have more respect for your elders." Her eyes narrowed at the scrawny, Squirming thing. 
"But if you want to die in here, by all means...who am I to stop you? Probably would be better off in my opinion... otherwise, I can help you out of these woods, and I guess...catch you a rabbit or something...you smell like you've eaten Carrion for days... probably too young to properly hunt." Her nose wrinkled in disgust. In all honesty it would be a mercy to kill the poor creature. But she didn't want to catch.... whatever it was she had.

tongue passed over her lips, eyes glued to the woman. "I'm fine," she said finally, determined now not to accept any help from the sharp-tongued hag. "I know w' I'm doing." usually, she was receptive to what others may suggest, but something about this woman -- perhaps the mismatch between her word and appearance -- brought stubbornness to light. she did not have much pride, either, but however much of it she had was made raw by the disgust writ on the stranger's face.

She had wasted enough time on the whelp. The sickly little worm would die out here, and Nemisis had no intention of preventing that fact. 
"Disgusting creature." She snapped, irritated. "Fine. You want to die a slow and painful death go ahead. But keep your miserable, flea infested, putrid pelt away from my forest. I wouldn't want my pack catching anything." She turned sharply, drawing herself up to full height before calling over her shoulder. "No wonder your mother abandoned you. There are wolves like me, Royalty, power. And wolves like you. Miserable weak wretches meant to be nothing and no one before they die alone. A smart shewolf knows the difference and will cull the weak." She had half a mind to deliver a nasty bite or swipe to the pup, but the thought of catching whatever disease she had made her shiver with disgust. So instead she sniffed, turning her nose up at the thing and padding her way back toward Ravensblood Forest.

the woman spits venom, sharp and cutting. the girl can only look on, and while she does not shift, does not cry, something heavy and unexplainable lodges in her throat. wide-eyed, pestilence is silent until the woman finishes her critique, turns tail and vanishes. 

something flairs then, laced with hate. she wants the woman dead. she wants her watch her kneel over, grow cold like the prey in the nightwalker's caches. she wishes it true, remaining stiff and still before she manages to swallow the lump in her throat and continues on. she will learn, and fairly soon, that the death of another requires much more work than simply wishing it.