Dragoncrest Cliffs my face (worth 1 thousand ships)

blodreina rises early when the darkness of the night still has the wilds in it's grasp. she wrangles a rabbit to tide her over. it's a scrawny thing and she's ok with it: she isn't overly hungry yet. the rabbit was only meant to give her an energy boost if she needed it: to stave off any possible belly rumblings. her patrol will not be short and quick. with a pack — once more, thought with a sigh of exasperation that definitely slipped from betwixt her lips — right on drageda's doorstep the gona will be thorough. painstakingly so.

she makes her way to the cliff and cuts left, heading towards the borders that touch ankyra sound's own. she refreshes the already fresh marking first thing and lets out a discontented huff — a low grumble. she doesn't know who claims the sound ( yet ) but some of the scents strike her as vaguely familiar. blodreina hopes the bear that attacked her still dwells there ( though she suspects not if drageda'd been set to split there ). it strikes her as cruel to realize that she absolutely wishes ill will on the pack — grown like an unwelcome weed — that claimed the sound. but that realization does not change the fact that she does, in fact, feel that way.

of course a woman called the blood queen would be cruel. it is in her very nature.

blodreina moves a few feet along the borders then and kicks up some grass, using the scent markers in her paw pads to aid her. she would be at this patrol for some time and though she is on edge — evidenced by the slight bristle of hairs at her nape and the tenseness of her shoulders — she is glad to be back home. glad to be patrolling and marking borders of her kru.