Wild Berry Meadow If it feels like a kick in the teeth, I can take it

Thyri moves through the Wild Berry Meadow, tracking the scent of a scrappy fox she had lost in the thick underbrush. Most of it is dead and spindly but there are autumn berries that still defiantly hang on and she knows that there are winter berries, too, that will bloom soon. The sickly sweet scent of berries is still strong, even when most of the berries are long decayed and their bushes are out of bloom. The thespian queen rather thinks that the scent will always linger here: that soil has absorbed too much of sweet and bitter berry juices not to give off that familiar smell: a smell that she thinks is likely tempting for ungulates seeking to scavenge food in the harsher months of winter. A shock of black pelage stands out in stark contrast against the dustings of snow and the colors of autumn, drawing the champagne and cremé colored woman’s light, caramel gaze. She lifts her muzzle to scent at the air, unsure if the other woman has caught her own scent yet, and deduces that she is from the same pack as that flame-kissed boy. The one whose claimed land is close-by.

Thyri lets out a low chuff to announce her presence to the woman whom appears to be enjoying the autumn berries, if the sound of sharp teeth breaking through the flesh of fruit is of any indication ( and it is ). “Hello,” Thyri offers as she draws nearer, stopping a respectful distance away as she assesses the other woman with a quick glance. It would appear that her pelage is not all ink: broken by speckles of white: like starlight painted across the night sky. Pretty, Thyri thinks absently.