Whitebark Stream run wild

Morningside. It doesn’t ring a bell but she gravitates toward the pack that found them in the maplewood, only because she is so close already. She does not realize they’ve moved into the territory completely. She keeps her distance, just in case.
 
“Where Morningside?” she decides to ask. Neither are going to budge while they’re teetering the line of politeness and standoffish. She doesn’t know where they reside in the first place when they’d taken residency for a few nights on their hunting grounds. They’d protected what they claimed is theirs without true claim. They did not bed there each night. Resentment settled deep in her bones when they’d been forced out, no matter how much she can see their end of things. She’d been exhausted, hungry, and facing the wearing looks of her children, telling them they do not get to rest, doesn’t easily leave once imprinted in the first place.