Northstar Vale foggy thoughts

Someone laughed. 
Genie stood up abruptly and turned around, expression clear of any emotion and amber eyes fierce. A flush had seeped up her cheeks, but she did her best to push it away, which, granted, wasn't very much. "What are you laughing at?" she demanded hotly, all thoughts about coming off as respectful, polite and kind were thrown out of the window the moment the girl laughed at her. She knew her posture had been funny, but she hated it when others laughed and mocked — she'd dealt with enough of it back in her natal pack. There was no way in hell she would be dealing with it now. 

"It's goldenrod," Genie told her grudgingly, her tone softening. "Good for stiff joints and injuries." It wasn't often that the girl lashed out on others, only in times of embarassment, turmoil and emotional suppression. She was, after all, actually quite shy — only intense bouts of emotion could get her like this. "I'm the new medic," she introduced after a moment with a tilt of her head, half-heartedly trying to salvage the remains of a potential friendship with a packmate. The flower lay on the ground, by Genie's paws, abandoned after her sudden outburst.