Wapun Meadow atlatl

athalia did not know it, but this land did belong to them.
once, it had been a pair of sisters with sad eyes. a man with a bird perched upon his shoulder. and now it fell to the hands of grandchildren; great-grandchildren. ruddy blood and addled minds, holding up a painting and looking closely at the brushstrokes.
athalia listens, but does not look anywhere in particular. her gaze is fuzzy. theirs. ours. mine. lone wolf? she isn't sure — she didn't quite know how to tell. she hesitates for a moment before her lips twist in a wicked way; crushing the stained snow with her paws, she replaces the marker with one of her own.
and then there is the mention of names, of one name; bearclaw. ancelin bearclaw. athalia ostrega. ostrega ostrega ostrega bearclaw
this was the territory of athalia bearclaw.