Broken Antler Fen solo ride until i die

all welcome! c:

Since Stitch couldn't bear the thought of being desperate enough to eat another Frank (see: a seagull she'd made friends with when she was a small pup) she had moved on from the beach, quickly. Her journey carried her southwest, passing several packs — their border scents wafting on the wind met with no resistance as it was by the spindly, grasping and skeletal limbs of the trees and foliage of the Wilds as she moved. The landscape seemed to blur together, broken only by a body of water, woodlands, or a range of mountains but no matter how far she went there was no green. It was so bland and eerie. Never before had Stitch ever experienced anything quite like this before; nor the hunger. Besides the lack of colors, the lapse of life. Her stomach gurgled it's discontent at her and she let out a low huff. The squirrel she'd stumbled across earlier in the morning had escaped her and Stitch had moved on, defeated, though she was marching on hungry.

She couldn't stop, she told herself. No, she had to keep going southwest. The truth was a much scarier thing for her to confront: she would have to try to join a pack. That was the short and low of it. The idea wasn't overly appealing: she shied away from confrontation with wolves she didn't know though stranger's were not as easy to avoid on her own as they'd been in Ikkuma. Her tendency to act like a deer in someone's headlights and like a general weirdo as one of her half brothers used to call her all the time had caused her to intentionally cringe away from it. The idea was appalling! Though, not as appalling as the idea of starving to death. Given the choice Stitch knew she'd rather be a weirdo and try to find a pack that would take pity on her, or if she was lucky accept her “quirks” then she would let herself starve.

Her steps slowed as she the scent of a pack began to strengthen the closer she moved towards their borders. She hesitated, visibly, one front paw in the air, cringing. Did she really want to do this? No. Did she have to do this? Yes. “C'mon Stitch, you got this, just take a deep breath and ...don't make it weird. Be a professional.” She attempted to comfort and inspire herself under her breath. A deep breath was taken — the scent of cedar strong mixed with the scent of the pack's wolves. “Easy peasy.” She steeled her elegant shoulders and pushed herself to close the distance, her posture lowering instinctively into a submissive one as she scooted a few scoots back to ensure there was an adequate distance between their borders and her body. With a sage nod to herself she tipped her head back, her muzzle angled skyward and let out a howl to call attention to her presence.