Sun Mote Copse Whether it's a wedding or a funeral

She'd felt out of sorts since meeting the strange boy. He had seemed almost... frightened of her. That didn't sit well with Foxglove. However much she tried to put it out of her mind, though, it always came back to nag her.

Maybe she shouldn't have been so surprised when she caught his scent in the wind. Logic told her that it would be best to turn back. He hadn't liked meeting her the first time, so why should a second be any different?

It wasn't logic that took hold just then, unfortunately. A wild impulse flashed through her, and before she knew it, Foxglove was sprinting off toward the source of the scent. She was so wrapped up in her intrusive-thought-turned-reality that she didn't even notice the other scents marking the place. Fox was laser-focused on a singular purpose: to launch herself, roaring like a bear, directly into the boy's flank.

And the rest of the plan? Well... she'd figure something out.