Felltree Marsh the guardian lives in her leaves

it is not the threat of a pack that brings her to the marsh. they’ve long since been gone from the nearby ravine. traveling to and from trigeda has kicked wayward wanderlust into gear. once she’s taken it easy for a few days, resting and eating and spending time with her children, she feels the need to stretch her legs. she slips by the borders without alerting anyone and presses south.

she’ll lie and say for no particular reason but she remains alert for anything familiar. she never followed a trail after them upon her return and she likely wouldn’t follow anything if she found it, but it’s hard to quell the hurting curiosity.

antumbra moves carefully through the marsh, avoiding as much as cold, but not frozen, soft ground as she could. she’s never been a fan of weak ground with the exception of sand, but she hardly considers it a problem. her nose twitches through the gross smells of wet, soil, thankful for the cold air to lessen the strength, however something else catches her attention. ears swivel ‘round and she turns her head, moving a little to the left until she sees the form of a pale woman and a closer look, another wolf that can’t be more than four or five months old.

not wanting to intrude, or alert them of harm, she chuffs across the way.