Bramblepoint hooooo?

For the last several weeks, she had lived her life as a cameo in the lives of others. Owl was a thin, skulking creature that kept to the shadows— feigning deafness or simply darting away if she happened to be seen and acknowledged. It was easier to sense the monsters that hunted her, to hear the cracking booms that marked their arrival on her heels. She counted two, nearly three, moon cycles since she had last heard them... but Owl knew their cleverness, their cruelty, and did not allow herself to be comforted by the time elapsed. She remained alone, fearful that her brethren would become a distraction and that she would be lulled into slipping her defenses.

Still. It had been a long time.

Owl did not leave the area, for it was here that she felt safer than she had in a long while— but she would press more distance at the first sign of her pursuers. That wolf-song rang out in the nights was a good sign, she was willing to risk belief in. It meant that they felt secure in these lands, and perhaps someday she could, too. She watched them from afar, though kept herself too far removed to know intimately of their cultures or personalities— but she could see that life here was idyllic in comparison to her own. They squabbled amongst themselves, for there was no threat other than each other.

She moved through the brambles, investigating the buds that lined their branches, lowkey watching for a stranger she might consider speaking to. Maybe.

All her life, Finley had practiced at tracking and hunting. In her youth, she had hunted excitement and tracked down adventure. Part of her wished she was doing that now. But no. It seemed that these days, her skills were only ever exercised when seeking out wayward daughters. She had sought Lucy in an effort to rescue her. Liffey she sought to drag her kicking and screaming back home by her tail, if necessary.

Becoming a parent sure did change things.

Fortunately, Fin knew her daughter's favorite haunts. Bramblepoint was probably chief amongst them. Her senses were alert as she walked through the trees, and so she was not wholly caught off guard when she caught onto the stranger's presence up ahead. For a moment, she thought it might be Liffey. That hope vanished within seconds however, but that didn't mean this find was completely useless to her.

"Hey you!" Fin called as she came closer. She came to a stop a few feet away from the girl before continuing, "Have you seen a kid around here? She looks like me, but smaller." Fin paused then thoughtfully before adding, "Well.. She looks younger than me, I should say. She's actually slightly taller..."

Her breath was soft as the sound of another's approach filled the brambles, and Owl froze like a deer— only her ears moved, working to catch the direction of the sound that she might plot her hasty escape. Whatever thin courage had flowed in her breast moments before had ebbed, shrinking behind her fear and memory of being hunted. But it was too late for her to run— and, perhaps, despite her cowardice, the lone ghost was weary of her isolation. 

"N—no," she breathed shakily, licking nervous drool from her lips. Owl's eyes were wide, and her body shrank in on itself. She very well might've come across the wolf, but her memory purged itself frequently; it wasn't as if she had made an effort to be near other wolves, let alone converse with them. This was the first in months, and despite herself, the snowy female felt a desperation growing within her body— a desperation that was heightened with the scent of pack on the others' fur.

The girl responded. In spite of her clear anxiety and the obvious telltale signs of inner turmoil, Finley huffed in irritation and dropped to her haunches. "Son of a... Damnit!!" she barked, gazing off into the woods. Where the hell was that girl? Fin swore in that moment that if she found Liffey dead in a ditch somewhere, she was SO grounded...

The alpha sucked in a deep breath and shut her eyes. After a moment, she opened them again and found her gaze centered on the other wolf. In she sighed and shook her head to relieve some of the tension. "Do you have kids?" she asked, once again not bothering to pay attention to what she might be able to discern for herself by just looking at the girl.

She took a cautious step back at the other's outburst, her breath shallow but expelling with a force that would betray her nervousness, if only the other paused to notice. But either she did not, or it did not phase her in the slightest. Owl's unexpected companion dropped to her haunches, looking distraught as she closed her eyes— the white wraith wondered if this might be an opportunity to slip away, but before she could move a muscle, the stranger was talking again.

Owl shook her head, eyes locked upon the other without ever quite meeting the stranger's gaze.

Only then did Finley begin to notice the other wolf's obvious discomfort. She supposed she was probably not making the greatest of first impressions, but she struggled to find the energy to care. She was so fed up with her daughter as of late. Part of her wondered why she even tried so hard to keep the girl safe when she clearly didn't give any fucks. But... she knew why. Liffey could be as horrible, inconsiderate and rude as she wanted and Finley would always fight to protect her.

The alpha sighed when the stranger shook her head. "I don't recommend it," she replied in a far calmer tone, "At least, not unless you can guarantee you'll have nothing but boys. Daughters? Fuck no." Fin thought of the two she'd had. One gone, one... going. Her heart wrenched painfully.

"I'm Finley," she offered after a beat.