Stavanger Bay this is the life

Exploring whatever remains of Vindur Break Meadow. AW!

The earth was a little bit chewed up in the heart of the bay, which would have saddened Saskia had she known of it's former beauty. There were no fresh flowers springing to life here; the trees were twisted in some places, fallen in others, and it looked as drab and depressing as any of the other areas the Stavanger wolves lay claim to. Still, she hoped to pick through the dirt for something. Flowers, maybe. Or herbs, if she could find them.

Saskia had always had a knack for finding plants, as much as it bored her. With her nose down, attention rapt upon the foreign soil, she probed and sniffed and pawed. Creeping along a fallen tree (which was in prime condition leading up to the storm until it had been ripped free of its moorings), Saskia became engrossed in the study of the tree's bark. There was some lichen growing near the base, where the roots sprawled in an exposed heap, and she was curious about it.

The air turned suddenly cold, though. A brief breeze from off of the sea perhaps - it rose up and caught in the scruff of her neck, wrapping a scarf of brine about her shoulders and causing her to hunch down in surprise.

Thistle strode among the depressing flower beds and sighed softly. Even her healing den was collasped and caved in. She sniffed at it gently and began to dig her mind on finding what she could salvage. She was a healer and it did not do well to not have her stock of herbs and such. It made her so very sad to see what was once beautiful laid bare and in ruin.

Thistle felt the breeze herself, oblivious to the other wolf though that  explored her ruined meadow. She stopped for a moment to remember briefly laying with Nerian and talking and making love with Ragnar deep in the meadow's depths. Yes this place had been beautiful once.

The wind whipped by her, and Saskia shivered. She bowed to it like a reed to the storm; but as the air began to calm, a soft scent was brought to her attention. It wasn't altogether foreign - just as foreign as any other wolf here - but it was familiar. Likely something that lingered throughout the territory. With her interest caught, she began to explore through the depths of the meadow (or rather, what was left of it). When she came upon a petite woman who looked simultaneously at home and lost, somber and reflective, she gave a coy pause.

Thistle heard the soft crunch of underbrush near her, and flattening her ears she turned. She splayed them back up, she had simply been startled. She studied the wolf in front of her. Tilting her head, she spoke softly. Hello you're new. I'm Thistle Cloud Alphess of the bay. Then she shifted so she was more facing the she wolf and waited for her to introduce herself. She smelled of Charon, and the bay, so she belonged, but who was she and where was she from?