Golden Glade Brick by brick.

The many trees in the vicinity crowded one another but she slipped between them, her toes sinking in to the wet moss clinging to the bark. It spread out like shag carpeting across a series of roots. She pauses halfway, her hind feet awkwardly splayed for stability, because a face has emerged from the verdant shadows.

Who the hell are you? the stranger said.
You need to get out of here.

They did not look frightened. There was a pinched quality to their face, like they had been caught sucking on lemons. What little light struggled its way through the canopy danced from rain drop to rain drop but missed the dark shape of the stranger, except in the case of a pale chest and cowl of rufous red. Jocasta thought she saw grass stains there.

There wasn't time to comply with what was demanded of her, though. The stranger mentioned something about joining them while Jocasta made her observations, striding forward a few extra steps so that she could stand properly without her ass left to tilt across those roots.

Joining who? Jocasta asked.

Maybe she didn't really want to know. The other wolf did not seem all that friendly, not that friendliness was a prerequisite for anything—but the rough quality of the stranger left her a little bit stunned.
I was passing through - my name is Jocasta. I am not a threat, if that's the issue.