Wapun Meadow round round baby right round

she did not heed her mother's call, last night. she is too upset. messing with the frightened boy had given her only some measure of release; she still feels tense after the meeting with the other pack and her perceived abandonment for the sake of some stupid little whelps. it is not rational; it is not logical.

but rational, logical. . .Avicus is neither of those things.

the girl slept in a glade at the edge of the valley, and then in the morning, she set off. it wasn't "running away from home," per se—she just needed some time alone. the walls of the valley had started to feel crushing, squeezing her within the confines of her family's home. out here, she can breathe.

she travels a ways, chasing frogs as she goes. she is bounding after the squat creatures with hapless abandon when she spots the woman and halts, ears perked, fur slightly bristling. her scent comes to Avicus on the rain-soaked breeze. a stranger: not one of her family, nor of that other pack.

the russet youngster watches her from a distance, curious but wary. now here was a diversion.