Broken Boulder Drumbeat

The dark woman considers going down to the river to mark again but she decides against it. It's risky enough to leave her scent behind on a territory she doesn't claim on her own as a warning to those below her. What little knowledge she has of her southern neighbors, she has little knowledge about the wolves congregating to her north. She frequently visits the bracken woods when she gets the chance, searching for remnants of those that might have followed even weeks—months—later.

Scents fill her nose, making her a little uneasy; there hasn't been many wolves at her doorstep lately other than Scythia and offer to the wolf she hunted with not long ago still hangs in the area. None of these remind her of the two but she moves through anyway, a territory that so far isn't enough to have solid borders. The scents don't even register in her process she might be stepping into the unknown.

Thuringwethil spots another up ahead, dark in color, heading toward the same direction she's moving. Her own stride picks up to close the distance, making a large circle outside the strangers peripheral, and she chuffs enough to bring attention to herself.