Porcupine Ridge Joining

Diane was not a learned patroller. The guardians of the Cove had largely been male, and she had neither the physique or mentality to be any sort of great defender. She was a pacifist at heart, and that was unlikely to change. Still, Tagg had encouraged her to travel the borders, leave her scent, and otherwise look for anything unusual—and so far she hadn't come across anything of interest. Though this wasn't saying much, since she had yet to travel the entirety of the Ridge's broad girth and couldn't accurately say that there was nothing to be found.

Her arrival at this particular stretch of border was coincidental at best. She was far from her den and slightly uncomfortable on her own, but she couldn't ignore the foreign scent of a loner, so she followed it with an anxious twitch set in her tail.

What if who she met was violent? Or sick? What if there was an ambush waiting? What is they were from the sea? She couldn't smell any salt on the air, so this quelled at least one of her fears, but it hung in the back of her mind like the thin, snow clouds loomed overhead. She trotted forward still, swallowing her anxiousness like bile as she came to greet the border-walker.

He was a strapping male; all cream and waning silver, with eyes bluer than shining blue waters from the Cove. Steeling herself, and careful to keep from stumbling over her words, she paused a few yards inland of the wolf and waved her tail stiffly. "Hello. Is there anything I can help.. you... with?" That didn't sound right. How were you supposed to greet wolves so close to the Ridge's borders? The Theta couldn't be sure...