Bearclaw Valley Where’s the fire? What’s the hurry about?

Hopping in with permission <3

Grackle nosed her way through both towering trees, and delicate blooms, all senses firing as she tried to follow what she hoped knew was the trail of a soon-to-be lunch. But the rain, that stupid, dumb, cursed rain had made everything a muddied mess, turning the once clear trails into a web of confusion and lies. The ground, slick with mud, betrayed her usual confident stride, and she found herself slipping more often than she cared to admit.

As she tried to regain her footing, her paw sank into a deceptively deep puddle, the cold, filthy water splashing up and soaking her dark coat. A low growl rumbled from her throat as she shook off the muck, sending droplets flying in every direction, but it did little to rid her of the swampy stench clinging to her fur.

Perfect, she muttered under her breath, sarcasm thick as molasses. Her annoyance had bubbled to the surface, now simmering just below her calm exterior. Determined not to be bested by a little mud, Grackle began picking her way through the terrain with newfound caution, seeking out the driest patches. She moved like a wraith, her obsidian form an out-of-place shadow slipping silently among the dripping trees.

Her path of cleanliness led her to an odd place, a strange mix of large rocks and towering conifers. Grackle paused, ears swiveling like radars, nose twitching as she inhaled deeply, trying to catch any whiff of her elusive meal. The stillness of the moment sharpened her focus, and there it was—a scent, faint but unmistakable. Wolves.

Her heart sank. The scent was growing stronger, drawing her along the very path she needed to take if she wanted to keep her paws dry. Of all the rotten luck. She didn’t have time for a scuffle, not when her stomach was gnawing at her insides and her patience had long since worn thin.

But retreating wasn’t in her nature. Not when she was so close. Grackle’s jade eyes narrowed to slits, her lips curling defiantly as she pressed on, each step more deliberate than the last. If there was going to be a confrontation, she’d face it head-on, with teeth bared and claws ready. But if there was a chance to slip past unnoticed, well, she wasn’t above a little stealth to get what she wanted.