Deepwood Weald i was going to cover that in the hear-me-out portion.

she had not gone back to the nightwalkers, a fact which confused even herself. she'd never spent more than a few hours out of the territory, and yet she'd been away almost an entire day. she knew distinctly that she had gone further than she'd ever have liked to, and that she had little idea on how she'd find her way back, but she could not find it in herself to care. 

she'd settled in what might have been someone's den, once, a stale furrow in the earth lined with brittle mosses. she wondered idly if she'd be able to survive, alone. she'd yet to have any luck hunting, and she'd gained a few new bruises, and yet she was fairly confident she would be just fine out here alone, if she so chose to be. 

she's on the verge of sleep when someone screams, close and desperate and senseless. she'd upright in an instant, tail curled and ears stiff as she listens, stiff. it's only when she's half-convinced herself it was only the call of some coyote, or weird-ass bird, that the voice comes again. fuming, both at herself for the quick and nervous beating of her heart and whatever asshole is wandering around screaming, she bee-lines towards the source. 

"who the fuck are you?" she shouts as soon as the boy comes into sight, realizing a moment later that this is an unpredictable stranger and bristling her hackles accordingly.