Swiftcurrent Creek can't go over it, can't go under it -

Clary's eyes grew wide at the plan, and at the real sense of danger the ranger lay before her. Whenever she and Nanook had found claimed land, they would reroute to a wide skirt around the territory, anything to avoid even the prospect of danger. But Nanook hadn't travelled in the role of ambassador, not like she and Red did now - and this was different. This pack was close to Easthollow, and Clary found that as soon as Red lay down the possibility that things could turn sour here, she was filled with the need to know if these wolves were a threat. She turned her attention back to the creek. The gurgle of the water, once pleasant, serene - it somehow sounded more ominous now. Clary swallowed.

She wanted to give these strangers the benefit of a doubt; she wanted to believe that they would be kind and fair like her mother - but Clary listened and planned nonetheless, sharing none of her thoughts with her friend. No doubt she would hear a protest if she did - because she would only run if she knew Red was okay. Her aunt had taught her a few moves when on the road, she figured she could hold her own, at least until they both could escape.

Red called, and then, they waited. And waited. A second rolled to a minute, and that minute spun to many more, and all the while Clary felt her skin prickle with a growing sense of unease. The bison skin felt constricted her now and as the moments rolled, she sunk further into the shadows as her gaze performed a nervous dance across the vegetation of the bank's opposite side. Finally, Clary peeked over and lent Red a whisper. "Maybe we should go. I don't think they're - " and then the sound of a low growl - a warning - kicked her heart like a rabbit, and she froze. The skin obscured her vision, and her panic merged the shadows of the bank's opposite side to one giant fear. Clary's lips parted to give air to a subconscious whimper. She didn't like this place, and she didn't want to be here anymore.