crawl from the fire into the pan, what we don't need, hell will demand

with a lazy sigh starling slid into the bosk's embrace, tucking her head as she slid past the outstretched arm of a prickly briar. the day was temperate enough that she was emboldened by its lack of threatening precipitation -- and casting one last wayward glance to the sky the songbird slid under the cover of brambly-vines.

she paused when she heard a strange noise she could not outright allocate -- a friction of pelt on bough. casting her wary gaze about her she made her way towards the noise, a stupid thing for a stupid girl to do when alone.

it was not long before she saw the masked culprit - a wolf of sundry warm hues and a gentle pall of russet on his face. he looked quite bedraggled, carrying with him the artifacts of a deranged winter pelt. it was enough to make her snigger unkindly, for in contrast she was primly groomed and bore the bright gossamer plumage of a well-kept wolf. "maybe you should give yourself a bath once in a while." she called out to the stranger, uncaring of the pompous tone that slid naturally from her snobbish mouth.