A thousand silhouettes

She had waken up this morning to do a border patrol. Same o' same o', she thought to herself. She wanted to do something, some kind of adventure. Maybe she could take a swim, or walk a little ways off the territory. What she really wanted to do was have a fight. The girl had spent most of her life doing friendly spar. It was in her blood. It ran through her veins. She loved throwing herself into a quarrel. She loved to have scars on her body, it showed everyone that she wasn't someone to be pushed around. She was taught that scars are a token that must be cherished. To smell another unfamiliar wolf in thee territory made her muscles ripple with joy and adrenaline. She followed a sent that smelled of old blood. Ripe for the taking, she thought. The sent had lead her to a white wolf, crippled and lame, laying on the floor. She didn't seem much of a threat, but she was still a trespasser.

"Hey! Don't you know your on our side of the forest? What are you doing here!"