Sun Mote Copse burn the world that you call civilized

It wasn't often that Figment ever actually came across anyone during his trips around the borders. They were typically quite uneventful, though he did occasionally come across a prey animal he'd give chase to, or the scent of another predator he'd taken some time inspecting. Other than that, he pretty much just walked along, peed a bit, sniffed at stuff, and called it a day. It wasn't exciting, but it worked for him.

When he heard the stranger a dozen or so yards in his wake, Fig felt an immediate jolt of what could've been given a kinder name, but I'll just admit was panic. He'd never had to actually protect the borders from anything before, let alone one of his own kind. The stranger looked like he'd seen better days (or at least Fig hoped so) and was going at the whatever-it-was with an almost desperate greed. His hackles prickled all along his spine as he watched and took a deep breath. He hadn't done this before, but he knew what to do. He could do this.

Stiff-legged, Figment turned back and approached the stranger with wary assertiveness. He lifted his chin as he moved to position himself between the yearling and the heart of the Copse. "You're a little close for comfort," Fig said by way of greeting as came to a stop, his eyes dropping to the puddle for a moment before he added, "...which I suspect you haven't noticed."