Shadewood ivy is taking over your sideboard

She didn’t suffer from nightmares every night, though they weren’t exactly uncommon, either. Most of them were a grisly replay of Avicus’s death scene. This one, though, was about a different Wealda. Redd snarled in her face, “We are one!” right before tearing out her throat.

Masque woke to find herself partly on her back, one foreleg struck out as if trying to defend herself from her sister’s death blow. She sprawled there for a few beats, breathing hard, then rolled rapidly and sprang to her feet. Her marigold eyes scoured her surroundings as her heartbeat slowly calmed.

She couldn’t shake the bad dream entirely. Rolling her shoulders and giving herself a shake, Masque sought distraction in the form of a border patrol. She headed for the forest’s outskirts, pausing to growl over the scent of an intruder. She was long gone, though the Redtail proceeded toward the stream that formed the eastern border of her territory with a curled lip and bristling hackles.

this wasn't her lake by any measure, but the forest would keep the rain from bothering her—and the wolf-scent was what really piqued her interest, drawing zharille through the pines until the wind shifted out of her favor. she lingered there a moment, waiting and watching, and when the air did not bring any further clues she decided to go on a head.
she had nothing to fear of this wilderness.
the sound of a beastly growl made her freeze up again; it came from further among the pines, and as she hunted for it, the scent of fresh water became prevalent, something which brought greatwater to mind. she kept herself alert as she prowled through the dark.

She cooled her temper with a long drink, though as soon as Masquerade raised her head, she caught another scent on the air. Her ears scooped forward, then slicked backward. She didn’t know why so many insisted on treading on these freshly claimed lands, though she could only assume it was because it was prime real estate. Thus she knew it was well worth defending.

Noisily, she splashed into the stream, a rumble deep in her throat as she waded toward the other shore. The far side of the river wasn’t part of her perceived territory, though her eyes still pierced the night, demanding answers to her unspoken questions. Her long tail knifed upward as she reached the far bank and listened.

She thought she saw a shadow moving toward her and barked into the darkness, Who goes there?

I assumed her position, so just let me know if I need to make any corrections! :)

that's fine!

the sound of splashing drew her closer. then, a voice shouting in to the dark.
as she emerged through a gap among the trees, the woman carried herself with as much pride and self-righteousness as any other moment in her life. she knew her power, and she was rarely afraid for her own safety. this was further reinforced when her eyes found the shape of the young woman; fierce though she appeared, she was young and alone.
there was a time and place to make enemies, however. the giantess did not see any reason to deny her some information.
zharille. the forest—yours?
either that or this woman was a touch overzealous.

The stranger ranged closer, allowing Masque to make out more details. She was intimidatingly large in stature, though between her own merits and her recent pique at all the casual intrusions lately, she refused to be unnerved. She stood her ground stiffly, wondering if the other she-wolf might hear the slight uptick in her heartbeat.

Yes, she replied quietly but emphatically. Masquerade, she offered, her expression wary but her marigold gaze tentatively intrigued despite herself. What brings you here, Zharille?

spring. was all she said in response.

why else would any woman roam? soon her time would come. she would find the strongest men and she would bear the strongest children, as she had once before. this time she would be more strict about it and avoid the complications of creatures like khaba. the very thought of him made the fur between her shoulders raise on-end.

looming closer, zharille breathes more of the woman's scent. she gives a grunt as if satisfied with what she's found. your man. strong? if he were here, she'd have challenged for him; an amusing thought given that zharille had not yet entered her cycle yet.

She didn’t react to the monosyllabic answer, though the slight ripple in the woman’s fur set her on edge. Every muscle in Masque’s body tensed, though whatever had provoked the prickling seemed to pass quickly. The smaller, younger she-wolf remained taut as a piano wire as the stranger leaned closer to read her scent.

She must’ve smelled Riley on her fur, prompting the question. Masquerade couldn’t possibly get any tenser. Of course Riley was strong, among many other things. She wished he was here. She mistakenly believed his presence beside her would deter this woman, encourage her on her way away from Shadewood.

Yes, she answered after a brief delay, her words soft and slow.

What do you want? she wondered. She was ready to defend her claim if it proved necessary, though considering the woman’s size, Masquerade certainly wasn’t looking for a fight.

She found herself saying, If you’re looking for someplace to stake a claim of your own, I spent weeks scouting the hinterlands. There are only two other packs here, right on top of one another to the east. Masque paused to huff out a breath. There are many viable territories further south, ripe for the picking.

the woman was uncomfortable, which appealed to zharille's baser instincts. she liked when women cowed to her, and when worthy men made good choices in her favor. the way the young woman went on and on was a little off-putting, and when she mentioned staking a claim—zharille gave a derisive snort and began to withdraw. first her attention, then her presence.

my place is far from here. she gave the other woman another once-over with her eyes, appraising, full of judgement. as she began to move off along the river's edge she seemed less and less interested in the quality of man that masquerade had chosen; he was not here, and zharille wasn't about to hunt for him.

east? she did not know cardinal directions, and paused, snaking a look to masquerade for clarification.

maybe she would find a worthy man by seeking these places.

She couldn’t be sure what prompted the snort, nor the subsequent withdrawal. Masquerade’s jaw clenched as she resisted the urge to shadow the stranger’s movements. She was moving downriver, still on the unclaimed side of the bank. She didn’t want to stop her.

The words were something of a relief, though they did nothing to ease the tension coiling in every fiber of her body. Although she stood her ground, her eyes tracked the giantess carefully. Masque caught the simple question drifting back to her on the dark winter air.

When those striking eyes caught hers, she held her gaze for a beat before letting hers slide eastward. Masque nodded her head in that direction, toward the barely discernible silhouette of the mountains that formed a wall in the distant sky.

East, she confirmed, then pivoted slightly to stand parallel with the river and raised a damp paw to point, south.

She said nothing further, waiting pensively for the woman to take her leave. Some part of her wondered what Avicus or Redd—ah, she suddenly remembered the nightmare!—would do in this situation. Surely they would give chase. But she silently reminded herself that she was different: an aspiring leader of her own making, not a Wealda. She would listen to both her instincts and her good sense.

while stationed there to listen, she watched as masquerade gave directions with her eyes and then with further motions. zharille seemed to consider her options, and swung her head one way and then the other. the cogs in her brain moved very slowly. perhaps she recited these sounds to herself, wordlessly.

without a word of thanks, she began to move off again and as her trail led inevitably through more pine-heavy forest, her heavy steps could be heard upon crackling branches and the detritus of snow and needle, until there was only the blackness of the forest left for masquerade.

the blackness, and the rain.

It wasn’t until long after Zharille disappeared that Masquerade finally released the tension on a long exhale. Still she didn’t move for some time. When she did, she began that patrol she’d planned, though there was no trace of her earlier irritation. It had been replaced by a certain thoughtfulness.

The simple act of staking Shadewood had preoccupied her so much recently, she hadn’t given much thought to her visions for the pack once she and Riley had set its foundation. Nanou had made her consider recruits. Now Zharille had her questioning the enforcement of her claim.

She pondered these matters as she roamed the edges of the woods. Masque wasn’t sure which would come first: daybreak, or her own exhaustion. When she sought out her bed again and curled up beside the peacefully sleeping Riley, it was still dark. She yawned, her mind finally falling quiet.

Thank you for the thread! :)