Wild Berry Meadow battlefield

The boy had entered her little meadow sometime that morning, and the siren had not missed it. She followed him for a time, once she'd chanced upon his scent, until he found a vantage point atop a hill. No longer could she remain unseen, but after a moment she slipped through the snow toward him, steps easy and stance amiable, trademark, ambiguous smile turning up the corners of her muzzle. She meant to investigate the boy that had stumbled into her meadow; though truly she knew she lay no true claim to the little piece of land, she thought of it now as her own.