Fox's Glade my love is driven by rage

Something moved behind her, crunching the frosted leaves, and she startled - turning to face it rather than run, which her instincts told her would've been a justified choice. She saw the pale coat of the stranger and was reminded of the night before - vaguely, for she had been very tired when she'd met Julien - and for a few moments Ibis was dealing with the butterflies in the pit of her belly, the tha-thump of her heart, thinking he had followed after her. She should've known better; nobody wanted her like that. But the stranger she now observed seemed young and shy, at least he did not come too close, and when she heard him call out to her Ibis was immediately intrigued. She gave a glance around the area in case there were others milling about in the dark, and then drifted towards the stranger.

Just as she was nearing him (at a safe distance just in case) she saw a flash of orange catch the light nearby, and froze. Ibis' nose wiggled as she sniffed the air, wondering if the scent of fox would deepen, for it was certainly a fox that watched the pair, was it not? She couldn't tell who it was that watched them, but she sidled closer to the pale wolf merely because he was a familiar shape and lowly said to the alabaster stranger, Look! Is it a fox? Should they chase it? Ira would have been proud of her, she thought. Easthollow would be pleased to have further pests routed before they could breach their defenses. It was a violent thought that had never entered her mind before, and yet she was too invested in staring at the glowing shape to worry.