Firefly Glen Knock knock! Who's there? Anxiety!

Using for Scout trade!

There were many packs to the south. She could smell them faintly - very, very faintly - on the breeze as she travelled from the grasslands on which her dark forest stood like a bastion of shadows to the wilderness that smelled of bears and forests and many wolves. She had no idea of what they thought of her dark pack, but had a worrying feeling that they were not well liked or trusted. Who would trust wolves that lived in darkness; who torture their enemies and scattered their bones and blood across their borders, who rewarded murderers and worshipped a Goddess of deceit and sex and a God of Death? Not many would. She did not even truly know why she allowed herself to settle among their ranks.

It was that thought that stilled her steps as she smelled a pack close to her. From the direction of the wind and the strength of the smell, this pack was to the southwest of this glen, perhaps on one of those mountains that jutted from the land. The pack's smell, though clearly from far away, was strong. She felt a knot in her stomach as she realized that their wolves must venture into this glen frequently and the thought that her pack was well hated intensified that knots rumbling in her stomach. She steered clear of the pack out of fear and tried to focus her mind on the surroundings around her, but that thought still lurked in her mind. What could she do if they caught her? She was no bigger than a yearling and she looked like a coyote. Even if they did "like" (what a strong word) Blackfeather wolves, not many wolves liked coyotes.

Anxiety sucks. She concluded, feeling her throat close up slightly at the thought of it.