Firefly Glen My heart is beating so slow

Norah knew that children of the reigning pair at Moonspear had branched off to start a pack, choosing the territory strategically close to their parents' claim. Whether it was the only practical aspect, or the place had happened to be just as good as any to start a pack, was for the lady in grey to find out. She had passed the territory's borders on more than one occasion, when she herself had headed out in the wilds to have a bit of entertainment, but up until now had not had any real desire to stop by and actually visit. She had wanted to wait long enough to find out, whether the Ostrega children had what it took to not only band wolves together, but keep them as such too. 

By now they had passed the test, and she was here today, walking carefully the demarcation line, picking up the myriad of scents there, storing each one of them in carefully labelled vials and putting them in the cupboard called "Memory of scents". She counted roughly 10 - give or take some - individuals. Some had left the casual marks, others - tracks came and went from the area. Hardly anyone older than two - you learn these things over time. And... here she stepped on a fallen twig, which snapped with an audible crack and scared a hare out of the bushes, where it had been hiding earlier. Norah suppressed the instinct to take after it, because, even if this pack was a friend of the Moonspear, it did not mean that they would take trespassing cordially. Perhaps, this hare would end on someone else's lunch-plate today. 

She's on the borders.