Frogspawn Swamp The lives we've reclaimed.

Niamh had roamed the borders, but had peeled away from them near the norther border toward the swamp, potentially planning on visiting the Plateau if she was able to find something to eat along the way. Surely they wouldn't begrudge her for hunting the thicket- as long as she shared with whoever greeted her at the borders, and as long as they knew who she was. She was hungry, bordering on hangry, and needed to find something to eat so as to feed the growing squibs inside her that seemed to demand that she eat more than  twice the amount she usually did- which was already quite a lot. 

The scent of the swamp made her reel, though; maybe it was because it was Spring and all the fallen leaves and dead grass were now revealed from under the snow, rotting and decaying, or because she was pregnant- but the stench absolutely gutted her. She meandered along the borders where the smell was slightly less overwhelming, and where the water was clearer, and thought she might simply forgo the visit to the Plateau today. While she wanted very much to visit Towhee and tell her the news- which was already fairly apparent by the sag of her abdomen- she might have to either send out a howl, or send someone on a mission to inform her if she couldn't force herself through the stench of the swamp. 

Over that smell, though, came another- the scent of a wolf- and it stopped her in her tracks. Her brain recognized it instantly, and was able to derive a bit of information from it, but she couldn't quite compute the answer she was given. She hastened her step, following her nose and moving through the murky waters carelessly, stumbling here and there where the marsh grass gave away to a pocket ot foul water- until she caught sight of a figure she never thought she'd see again. 

His body bore scars, but through his healthy, beautiful pelt they were only really visible (from this distance, anyway) when he flexed and moved, presumably pouncing frogs. But there was no mistaking the coal-black of his pelt, and the burnt gold of the fur along his shoulders. He moved away from his task to bask in the sunshine, so she moved forward, eyes trained on the dark figure, recognizing him more and more as she drew closer. She could see his scars more clearly, which halted her. Why, then- if he'd survived, and if this was truly her brother, had he not returned to the Plateau?

"What the actual fuck, Am-BRO!" She shouted at him from a distance, waiting somewhat warily for his reaction.