Otatso Wetlands I think I'm freaking out

She snaked her tongue over her jaws and nose as she followed the mute juvenile, awaiting some indication of where she was being led. Ptarmigan never entertained the thought of being brought to some witch's hut or monster's den. She was grounded in reality, and therefore the very concept of some of the things other wolves believed in—spirits and the like—was ludicrous in her eyes. The dark-haired female held fast to the belief that the lost juvenile would lead her to safety.

Having already forgotten that Magpie likely held something against her for her piss poor attitude, Ptarmigan spoke up from behind the youth, as though she had some right to do so. “What's with the silent treatment?” she wondered loudly, pinning the other with an accusing stare. “Do you think it makes you creepy or something?” Was that offensive? Oh well.