Broken Antler Fen i want to be better

the fossopa follows the tentative directions given to her by thyri and the scouts of crogeda that had escorted wanheda most of the way home. she is a scout by nature; mapper of the constellations. the stars, atla has been taught, were just as crucial to scouting as the land was. praimfaya's scent is long gone; but giving up is not something that atla has been raised to do.

if you stop fighting, you're dead is what salem had told her time and again.

she suspects she has entered the teekon wilds; proven only when she sees a landmark described to her by the crogeda's own scouts; a tree who's rough bark is marred by the claws of a bear; clearly the ursidae's own private scratching post. a soft snort passes from her black, leathery nose as she just barely contains her own laughter at her joke.

another patch of light snow has begun to kick up and it is by the fresh-water source that atla decides to rest. it seems as good a place as any to take stock of her surroundings, find something to fill her belly and take a nap. there was no immediate rush to find wanheda and it would be a lie to say that, that was her sole purpose here. beneath the ironclad purpose was a flutter of excitement at being in a new place, at exploring and meeting new faces and cultures.