Bramblepoint Burnt out from a joyride

Between the woods to the South of the Caldera and these to the North, Figment was starting to feel confident in his decision on which location he would claim as his training grounds. He'd loved the bog because of the wetlands that could add an extra level of difficulty to his work outs, but either of the woods he'd come across did have streams and ponds that could do the trick well enough. He liked the allure of the Southern woods because fewer wolves traveled there, but seeing as he was trying to put himself out there more and make more friends, it seemed that Bramblepoint would be the winner.

He was still panting as he began the trek back home after that day's workout. His fur was damp and fluffy from splashing around in a wide stream. It puffed out stupidly from his sides and the top of his head was spiked like his mother had liked to do to him when he was a kid. Unfortunately for him, he was unaware of any of this when he came across Meerkat's fresh scent and turned to hunt her down.

Neema...?

Fig frowned when he heard his little sister speak the name as a question, picking up his pace so he could see what had prompted the confusion in her tone. The brush parted as he stepped into view. He looked first at Meerkat, then over to the golden female that was quite obviously the one Meerkat referred to. She did look just like Niamh. Only younger, and prettier, and...

"Ohh.. crap..." Fig murmured, feeling his stomach drop into his butt. He looked absurd, didn't he? He was suddenly extremely aware of how just.. wrong his fur felt. He fought the urge to reach to tame it, not wanting to draw undue attention to his discomfort. Speaking of which... "I mean.. Nellie!" he corrected after a shake of his head, "Hi! You're... here!" Was his voice too high-pitched? Shit, was Meerkat witnessing this? Shit shit shit.