Felltree Marsh from the place the world forgot

The scent comes to her before she sees her and it is unmistakable. She stiffens and resists the urge to lift her head above her shoulders and arch her tail; she’s not near Drageda and she doesn’t have intentions of trying to chase out anyone. The scent is far enough she doesn’t have to worry about a threat to her home, however, it doesn’t quite settle well within her. They weren’t likely to be on the friendliest of terms, either, having forced them out of their choice of a home. 

It was the best thing for the both of them, in the long run.

Thuringwethil turns her head, slowly, to find the dark woman in the distance. Dark slate eyes watch from where she stands and at first she doesn’t make a move to advance, hesitant she might be walking into something that could put her in trouble. The other may be smaller than her but she isn’t dumb enough to underestimate a warrior, whether or not that is the case here. She can’t afford to make assumptions.

“I am here in peace,” she explains, taking a careful step forward to find ground a little sturdier. The wet soil suctions between her toes and if the other advances, there isn’t an easy escape when the terrain will hold her down.