Golden Glade rien pour l'instant

Hostility given her condition? Phoebe's eyes narrowed sharply—this wolf was encroaching on the land that her mother had set to claim. But it was a fleeting thing, overridden again by the anxiety that bloomed in the absence of anything better. She felt awful for a moment, hiding behind her mother, but she was not versed in such things and still in some semblance very much a child unwilling to rise to the threat.

She stayed silent as her mother handled it with tact, her gaze not once leaving the stranger. She too was curious what had drawn them into their wood admittedly, though she had wished they had never appeared in the first place. Phoebe didn't need reason to dislike the glade—she had plenty of reasons without this being one of them. Perhaps they'd take their leave early and leave them be, or maybe they should have a change of heart and show them another way altogether.