King Elk Forest you look familiar, did you forget about me?

@Nathaniel!

The sun was retreating behind a curtain of violet and rose, allowing the moon its spotlight as it shined over their heads. Queenie had been asleep for the past hour or so; she got up from her rook and stretched out her muscles, hoping to strike gold with some newfound energy in doing so.

The night patrol would be starting soon and because she planned on marking the western border (the one she found to be the most tedious), Queenie knew she'd have to get moving soon if she was to finish by morning.

He felt more restless than he thought he would in this new home.

The former soldier had been on the move since he had lost it all, fleeing the scene that had left his torn heart on the ground, and now it felt oh so wrong to stop running. Surely their ghosts would catch up to him now; they flitted along the wind, the sharpest spikes aimed for his chest. Bile came up in his throat, his hackles rose, and then he was forced from his laying position, retching. Nothing came up but bitter acid.
The sting in his throat grounded him, reminded him he was here and alive-- and they were dead. It brought relief and fresh agony in equal parts, to realize this; they would not come for him, ever.

Nathaniel shook his coat out roughly, as if this might dislodge the grief like burrs from his skin. Frustration filled him, irrational and satisfying, when it did not. He whipped around with a growl, anger already written into his expression when he set off on another damned walk.
Take a fuckin' walk, Nathaniel. He hissed to himself, eyes trained on the ground. That'll help for sure.

The ex-soldier didn't see the girl at all as he approached her, silent now but still clearly fuming. He was on a course to pass right by her without even noticing.

It was somewhat sickening, how much Queenie enjoyed playful torment. The brute before her passed by with such radiating anger that she thought the heat from his body was enough to melt the snow in the territory. She smiled at that inner remark, then called out to him, Hey! The last time they'd met, they hadn't really had the opportunity to have a proper introduction; Queenie preferred it that way.

Enough time had been spent resting, and since it looked like they would be heading to the same destination, Queenie thought she might follow after him to see how many of his buttons she could push. Someone is in a bad mood, she teased in a low, cooing voice.

Nathaniel glanced up sharply at the greeting, his expression instantly forming into one of distaste.
Oh, it's you. His tone was one that normally would only be reserved for finding he had stepped in something disgusting, and he walked a little faster.
But she persisted-- maddening! The ex-soldier hadn't the energy to play her games, and he wasn't in the mood to make her get lost. Silence, he thought, might have been his best option if not for the possibility of her filling the silence with her own unpleasant words.
You're observant. Nat responded flatly after a beat, not bothering to give her a second glance. He had the feeling seeing whatever expression was on her face would only infuriate him more.

Queenie considered the comment and shrugged, I guess so. Not like you're hiding it very well. She was struggling a bit to keep up with the stranger, but she was determined not to fall behind. You're always angry, huh? It seemed that way, at least. Each time the two had crossed paths, he seemed to be in some Moody Judy bubble of grumpiness. Maybe, Queenie thought, it was her fault...

Nah.

Wanna talk about it? she asked, her voice bubbly with a slightly mocking tone behind it. She would have listened if he wanted to speak on it [she doubted that he did] but she wouldn't be able to promise that there wouldn't be any jokes made in response.

I wasn't seeking company. He pointed out irritably. I'm not obligated to hide anything.
If he had been seeking company, Nathaniel might have thought differently. He didn't seek to rain his own troubles on others-- but this girl was following him. If she does not like the storm, he told himself, she should seek shelter. And with that he did not feel bad at all for acting the way he did.
Nat scoffed at her question. Thanks, but I'd sooner drown.

Queenie snorted and sped up a few steps with her tail wagging steadily behind. You're funny, she announced to her companion (if he could be called that), You know, I'm actually not a bad listener. You'd know that if you stopped being pissy long enough to give me a chance. She was teasing, of course, but there was a certain degree of seriousness to her voice this time. 

There was a moment of thought as Queenie bit at the inside of her cheek. I didn't mean to make you so upset last time, promise. I'm not used to having to be, I don't know...considerate? That was about as close to an apology as he would be getting, and just to clarify, it was the closest that anyone had ever gotten from Missy St. Clair.

Nathaniel wasn't certain he could trust the girl's words— in fact he was quite sure they were false. He wasn't about to confide in her, but there could be no harm in dropping the hostility for now. After all, apparently they were packmates, for the time being.
The fact that she wasn't used to considering others' feelings didn't necessarily surprise the ex-soldier; something about her made it a bit obvious. He resisted the urge to smirk at her, instead staying stony-faced as always. She wanted a chance, then?
Alright. So what do you intend to do with your chance? Nat inquired, the ghost of faint amusement lingering under his tone. He really was curious, now.

Queenie huffed and rolled her eyes, Listen, fat-head. Hadn't she made that clear? The entire purpose of the conversation had been to get something out of him, something juicy that she could hold onto. With a breath, Queenie tried to make a different approach, I wanna know what's made you so angry. I could tell you something, too, if you want. Not all of Queenie's stories were necessarily true or significant, but they were stories nonetheless.

The ex-soldier was immediately amused when she called him fat-head. Surely it was meant as an insult, but he couldn't quite take it seriously.
Kinda came out angry. Sorry to disappoint. It was true, and it wasn't-- there was, of course, more to it. But Nathaniel wasn't about to give it up so easily. A thought came to him, then, and he snorted before he spoke again. Tell me what's made you so rude; maybe I'll remember something interesting.
Nat didn't really expect her to take the bait, but so far she had proven rather stubborn, so anything was possible. He hoped it would take her down a notch to admit it, if she did. Maybe her inevitable presence in his life could be made tolerable.

With a huff and a proud twist of her head, Queenie gave her companion an unforgettable scowl, I'm not rude, I'm honest. There were times when she was crude and raw, sure, but rude? Never. You don't even know my name and you're calling me rude! What was really rude was for him to have neglected introductions. Sure, she could have initiated it, but that would have been too out of character for Lil' Stuff St. Clair.

What's rude is how you keep tryin' to get rid of me. What's your problem, huh?