Witch's Marsh hit 'em with the bomb diggy bomb diggy

@Scimitar. Subsequent posts will be shorter, just getting used to the character/her motives. <3

Now that Tail knew she had made it to the Wilds, she could allow herself to slow down. It was bigger than she had ever imagined, and from the sound of things, it seemed to be thriving with more packs than had existed when her sister had tried her luck here. The young Blackthorn found that a double-edged sword; there would be plenty of eligible bachelors for her to choose from, but would there be any suitable territories left to claim when she was ready to start a family?

But that would be some time from now, and though the end goal was sharp in her mind, Tail could afford to take her time from this point forward. She had spent the morning sleeping in, and the afternoon hunting, to rebuild the strength lost over her journey. When she awoke, she felt invigorated. Though it was still blustery and cloudy, it was at least slightly warmer than yesterday. Tail felt chipper for that; without winter breathing directly down her guardhairs, she was optimistic that she could take the necessary steps to find a pack that suited her.

As she angled southward, seeking any wolves that made their home in this portion of the valley, Tail was disappointed to see two wetlands blocking her path. Both looked foreboding, and although both had forests guarding their opposing sides, Tail believed the expansive mountains would take her too far out of her way. She opted to cut through the eastern most marsh, seeking shelter beneath the trees of its neighboring forest.

Tail ducked beneath the canopy, and was immediately assaulted by the scent of wolf. She froze in brief panic, but if she were in the heart of claimed land, they would have ascended upon her by now. A thoroughfare, perhaps. Still, as much as the Blackthorn wished to meet as many packs as she could, she wanted to do so in good graces. She backpedaled as her mind spun, wondering what course to take.

But fate decided for her, for her rear was suddenly submerged in the chilly, stinking water of the marsh. As she scrambled to escape the cold water, Tail managed to get herself entirely wet; but in a few moments, she had found solid ground and shook the excess water from her fur. She sat, shivering, as she analyzed her next move.

"I really hope no one saw that," she muttered, blue-gray gaze scanning the landscape. "I need to learn to watch where I'm going."

[oos]Sorry this took so long for me to reply.. Sick. :c been knocked flat since Monday.[/ooc]

He was not keen on spending much time away from his territory, but just because his family was mid-crisis did not mean that potential threats would keep themselves at bay in the interim of the Grove wolves trying to adjust to their new lives.
 
It was with this thought that the cinnamon wolf made his way to the Marsh, though the wetlands itself was rather unappealing to the wolf. He still missed Nova Peak and it's grand views and the climate -- but he also missed Neverwinter Forest, and the coniferous trees that blanketed it. It would seem to the wolf that he would always pine for something that he did not have -- and perhaps, that was the greatest downfall he had.
 
But his journey was not one for soul searching -- it was simply to scout the perimeters that remained closer to his home, and ensure nothing seemed too out of place.
 
Had he known that all he would have found was a sopping wet, silver female, he might have reconsidered his trip. His strong suit had never been recruiting, and she posed little threat. Still, as his gaze swept over her, he found himself trailing closer, having missed the episode of her falling in to the murky waters of the wetlands. His own paws squished against the wetter grounds, and dipping his muzzle down in neutrality, the male uttered a low bark to gain her attention. "Passing by?"

No problem, especially because I made you wait longer... :) Back from vacation now, so I should be speedier going forward!

Sopping wet was the last thing the yearling wanted to be, especially with day-to-day temperatures dropping so rapidly. Worse, still, was that this wasn't merely lake or river water— it was the stinking wet that belonged solely to the rot of wetlands. She scanned futilely for a sheltered territory that she could escape to while her fur dried, out of the blustering winds, but she was trapped between wetland and claimed land.

Before she could escape south, a male approached. Thankfully, it was a question that he presented her, rather than teeth. Tail turned her head demurely to the side— a gesture of submission, for she was already sitting. "I'm trying to get to the mountains," she explained, with a gentle nod of confirmation. "It seems I chose a poor route. I apologize if I drew too close for comfort." Tail risked a glance, though her head did not move.

He smelled heady; of other wolves, of puppies. There was no mistaking that he was of the pack she had nearly stumbled into, and though she had no way of knowing unless she were told, Tail suspected he was an important member. It was enough to spook her for the time being, and after a courteous farewell, the yearling scampered off through the wetlands. It would be unpleasant, of course, but at least she would still have her life.