Whitewater Gorge Devious Dealings

All welcome

Slipping from the comfort of the meadow, Envy's exploits would take her further, as she was seeking for a wooded area. Sure, her pawspads grew cracked and sore, but that was the price to pay for progress.

She hardly noticed it, really. The gentle flow of crimson that had begun to tease the grooves of her paws.

She remained ever-focused, muzzle to the ground, eyes strung right ahead like a dog on a scent. She had a few things to tick off her little brain list. Some more self-indulgent than others.

The wretch halted her pace. Scuttled on again. Halted. Scuttled. She was looking for herbs of a rarer variety, ones that couldn't be procured in the prairie grass of Yellowstone. Treating coughs and colds was not nearly as thrilling as treating injuries, but precedent demanded she be stocked regardless. She'd never been good at following rules, preferring to only resign to the ones that suited her, but she had to be a good dog, now. No slip ups. Good.

She had a good thing, and she'd already sunken her teeth deep into it.

Shifting across the grassy terrain, she displayed an uncharacteristic gentle touch as she uprooted a small patch of seer's sage. She used her tongue to roll it into the spaces between her teeth, ever careful not to puncture its leaves. Perhaps this one was a little more for herself than the good of the pack, but when had she ever paused to weigh her priorities? She was greedy. Hungry. She'd take all that was put on the plate in front of her.

Impish and squirrely, she slipped through patch of bracken one after another, unsatisfied coming home with only... experimental material to show for her travels.

The sun glares down from overhead and Briar all but wilts beneath it. He had not paid much attention to his comings and goings from the Teekons. Well, it was more one long stretch after leaving the lowland desert, searching for greener pastures to winter within. Now he had returned to continue drifting aimlessly.

The flatlands were vaguely familiar. He relocated the springs, although it was far from the proper weather to enjoy a soak. Even the sulfurous odor seemed stronger beneath the heat, or perhaps he simply forgotten it. Moving away from the springs towards the sound of running water, Briar's nose twitched. Iron.

How curious. A wounded animal perhaps? His stomach growled eagerly at the thought of an easy meal. Head level with his chest, he set out into a determined trot. His own scent driving him forward.

Sooner the distant whisper of water grew into a roar. The ground opening up into an uneven chasm. Splitting the flat prairie land before him. Across the way, two-tone eyes landed upon a silver form as it scurried about, insect like, nose to the ground. Could there be animal burrows on their side?

Unaware that the stranger was the source of the blood smell, his voice lifted into a bark to hail her attention. What 're you hunting over there?

Startled, Envy scrambled in place for a moment before whipping her attention around to this interloper that sought to derail her task, tattered ears were perked up and pointed in his direction.

Not hunting! She'd exclaim through a mouth full of sage slicked with saliva, it was making the corners of her mouth tingle and a part of her simply could not wait to enjoy a night free from nagging machinations and all-consuming restlessness. Dropping the sage to the ground and protectively moving to stand over it, she raked her gaze down the redwood man that faced her, her chin raised slightly and her chest puffed with a confidence unmatching of her stature nor her state.

So if you wanted food, yer out of luck. I'm picking flowers. She says firmly, cocking her head to the side as she continued to study him.

His tone sounded friendly-like. Maybe he was just curious, and did not seek to assail her for one reason or another, but then again, she could not often tell. That sheltered part of her screamed to be on her guard while the rest was eager to absorb this stranger for all he was worth.

Lone wolves could be so unpredictable and it made her head hurt. Not often was intention painted so easily for all to see, and so she had to dig deeper.

...Sorry to disappoint. She'd soften her voice, no longer so accusatory, though he had given her quite a scare, albeit, much to her own fault for being so tunnel-visioned that she neglected her environs, but blame was never hers and so it was cast from thought without a moment to spare. Regardless, she was still holding onto it a little, evident in the narrowed slits of mahogany that she traced over him with.