Stavanger Bay But we're prepared and the mood is set

@Junior

The air was perfumed with the scent of wolf piss, yet Ptarmigan pressed on undeterred. Her previous experiences had told her that a lot of wolves treated their borders like a literal line over which a wolf could cross and uncross, like a thin border drawn precisely in the terrain. She, of course, had no idea that the Viking pack she was approaching was nothing like those more mild-mannered packs. She intended to dance on their borders, hopping in and out like a confused jackrabbit, until they chased her into the sunset.

Ptarmigan hadn't quite reached the pack territory by the time she let out a huge yawn and sat down, thumping her tail against the ground as she considered her options. The line was muddled here, and that was the only warning that Ptarmigan would get that this pack likely had a buffer zone rather than just a perfectly drawn line defining "loner" from "trespasser".