Bearclaw Valley in the end i danced with a ghost

twitch traces the borders loosely—pacing, really—biding her time until her stomach made a final snarl that would urge her to hunt. her legs moved on autopilot. she wanders past coyote spikes, a little beyond the mouth of the valley.

she squeezes through bramble and underbrush, and she can feel branches splintering, caught in the plush fur of her neck. she exhales sharply as she exits the thick foliage, ears flattening at the tug from the final branch. "fuckin- ow." she hissed to herself. there are twigs stuck in her fur, certainly, but she cannot be bothered to spend an additional ten minutes to clear them from her coat.

she's a few moments from cursing again when the brush ahead of her rustles, disturbed. movement. she paused, head snapping toward the sound just in time to see something slinking up from the earth—tangled in briars, rubbing at their eyes like it had been buried there all night.

her hackles bristled, instinct prickling against her spine. they weren't a fox nor coyote, but certainly sniffing around where they probably shouldn’t be. sneezing, too—one turned into two, two turned into three. rounds of it, too. for a long moment, she only stared, waiting for them to finish.