Lost Creek Hollow I've got no-one but myself to blame.

Dread wasn't exactly the word she'd use to describe how she was feeling right now, sulking through the still-too-strange forest, scouring the terrain for signs of her father's scent. She wasn't looking for him; the woman who had become important enough to replace her mother, who was probably hanging out wherever he'd built their shared den, that was the target of Ibis' investigations. She didn't really want to meet her. It was an awful little thought, but it was the truth. Not knowing what to expect (regardless of what she'd been told), little Ibis knew in her heart of hearts that it wasn't fair to judge the person before meeting them — but she was skeptical, and could have easily made up her mind about this pretender. 

It was by sheer luck that she came upon a path leading for the den. Ibis was not skilled in tracking (as her record would show: she'd gotten lost while trying to hunt down her father in the first place, and again while heading to the Hollow on her own despite multiple previous trips). The girl was hopeless, witless, when it came to her own sense of direction. In short, she completely lacked one. After being turned around a few times, Ibis emerged from off the beaten path and was smacked in the face by a myriad of sensations.

First, the overwhelmingly pungent scent of her father along with the mostly-foreign intertwining scent of (who she presumed to be) @Treason; simultaneous to this smell she had to hastily duck and weave around a series of young trees surrounded by brambles and marsh; lastly, as she settled on to some proper terra firma again, the yucky feeling of mud all over her paws - all the way up to her chest. She looked frightfully unkempt. There was no way Ibis could meet her step-mom (??!) looking like this.

Regardless of all her feelings, and the thundering of her little heart after she'd narrowly avoided further disaster on her route, she came face-to-face with the mostly obscured den mouth, and certainly the commotion of her arrival would arouse some kind of response whether she was prepared for it or not.