Felltree Marsh from the place the world forgot

Thuringwethil doesn’t quite realize how close she is to their territory, the place they’ve claimed, and so when the other dark female asks why she follows, she can’t help but burrow her brows. Her jaws tighten and before she answers, she’s given the suggestion of going back home. The marsh is far enough, she supposes, but the exact distance is still yearning within her. The safety of her wolves matter and letting them know where the ones that threatened them so close are far enough away is information she wishes to return with. If they won’t give it to her, then she can settle the barrier in this land. 

Before she’s given the chance to respond, or leave, the other wolf shows up and stands next to his pack mate. Her own eyes narrow and she resists the urge to lift her head in his presence. Thuringwethil keeps her actions in check; two wolves against one isn’t a situation she likes to be in, but when he demands an answer—on neutral ground at that—she feels the bristling of her fur.

“Unless you’ve claimed this marsh,” she begins and looks around, doubting it to be the case, “then there is no harm in my presence. I will not advance past it.” Her compromise is given and she glances between the two. “I was only following it to determine the space between my home and yours. So I can tell my wolves to avoid your area,” she tells them, hoping it will be enough to satisfy the both of them with boundaries set.