Jade Fern Grove how quickly though, life can turn around

The soil is mushy, and loamy gobbets and clumps cling stubbornly to her paws, but there isn't a whole lot of snow left carpeting it in here, except for some of the deepest, shadiest patches of ground that remain highlighted in white still. It makes for a refreshing change of pace from the icy weather of the long winter, which had definitely been lingering on much of the burgeoning pack's new chosen hunting grounds despite the faint tantalizing scent of Spring now lingering on the winds. So her feet grow kinda muddy but aren't quite really wet as they wend their way forth through the tall columns of trees that dim the failing sunlight into a sort of perpetual twilight here. Brou keeps her ears perked and her nose intently a-sniffing however, hardly handicapped by even the dimmest recesses of the forest. She isn't the first Legionnaire to venture here, and doesn't plan to stay all that long, but since it's all still mostly new to her and, more importantly, out from under Mother's steely paw and watchful eye, Brou is content enough to wander and investigate a little. Her uppricked ears soon catch a low BOOF as it resounds among the woody sentinels, though, which is enough to speedily divert her steps as she immediately homes in on the sound of the stranger and beelines toward him as best she can among the thick treecover. Mom would surely be proud and appreciative of her girlpup's expediting their sentry duties, after all, right? At least so long as Arbiter didn't start seeing invisible murderers around every corner again for now good reason, sheeeesh, but naturally Brouhaha chose to overlook that little detail that had already constricted her life for far too long now anyhow.

Brou's swift trot slows only a little as she catches the unknown scent and digests it consideringly, and then slows a fraction more yet as he comes into view. Her sky-blue eyes widen as she pads in a semicircle around the creature, taking in his dimensions appreciatively as she inhales his aroma. Whoa-oa, she half-breathes out, more to herself than to him, and then louder and more directly she addresses the stranger: Who're you? What're you doing here, and how come you're so noisy about it?

The words are a little accusing, but the glitter of excited interest in her eyes and the upcurled wagging of her white-tipped tail take any real harshness out of whatever bite her tone might present. She boldly steps closer to the very strange-looking stranger, eyes roving all over his impressive musculature and broad massif of a head, but lingering most upon his contrastingly stubby ears. Definitely not like any wolf she's met, ever—and boy is she ever ready for an exciting change of pace from the humdrum usual she's been stuck living with day in and day out for the better part of so many months.