The Tangle pray for the wicked on the weekend

There was so much to see in this new place, and it varied no matter which direction she headed. In going north with Easy, they'd found more mountainous terrain and some plateaus; going west had been interesting too, because there was a giant ravine cutting through the grassland with so many interesting bits and pieces to investigate. That's the last place she remembered being with Grayday — but something had caught her eye as she'd wandered, and soon enough Lavender had been swept away by her own imagination.

Lavender didn't think she'd been gone that long, or gone that far, but when she saw the criss-crossing of gray shadows falling across the hills things sort-of clicked. The only thing she could do was find shelter for the night. By heading north from her position she came upon a forest, and soon had found a winding path in among the trees. Her pelt kept her warm enough even as the early evening light began to dim, but Lavender couldn't help feeling an eerie chill as she lingered in the forest; this place was so spooky, and she didn't like being alone.

At least she would know for next time to pay attention — but this was also a chance to prove she could handle scouting someplace on her own rather than with an escort, such as with Easy or her father, or one of the other wolves of Morningside. It was hard not to be afraid but Lavender knew she couldn't do anything until morning, so here she would stay.

As the night descended on him like a great vulture, Phoenix tried his best to outpace the growing shadows. This waste, flush with sharp rocks and potholes, wasn't an ideal place to lay his head. But his steady trot was not quick enough to free him of the obstacle-ridden territory before darkness would come to make an enemy of itself. His pace slowed dramatically in the lowlight, now having to be thrice as careful about where he placed his feet.

He was glad when the distracting sound of other pawsteps reached him, despite knowing somewhere in the back of his head that this was something to only slow him down more. The lone yearling stood still, with his eyes, nose, and ears angled expectantly  over his shoulder; waiting for the sound to become something tangible.

I wasn't sure if you meant her coyote pelt was keeping her warm or her own fur was, so I kept it vague for now :)

Despite the forest being such a terribly dark and winding place, there wasn't really much to it. Or maybe it was the descending darkness that obscured it's innate charms - either way, Lavender didn't particularly like the look of the forking paths or the twisting trees, and soon it seemed like hunting down a haven for sleep was an effort in futility. It did not help that every little sound made her pause and stand alertly, like a dog out for a hunt. Each time she was mildly spooked and the girl would wheel about, staring intently towards the rustling sound; she grew more tired as her nerves frayed and her anxiety picked up.

By the time she was caught by another, she almost didn't see them in the thick shadows of the forest. She heard their approach but was slow to meet it, having worn herself out with too many false starts. Lavender was tired, sure, but she was also frustrated. She knew that Easy wouldn't have been this easily frightened, and Dauntless would have never gotten lost like this in the first place. She tried to summon up some courage to temper her anxiety, and then chased down that rustling sound - pushing through a patch of ferns and foliage until she came out the other side in another section of the forest, before a set of narrowed copper eyes.

One of the overhanging branches caught upon her coyote pelt, and her momentum was hastily killed. She fwumped backwards, but was watching the stranger rather than whatever it was that held her in place.

Oops! I should be more clear. :) She is always wearing her coyote-skin coat since her own natural coat doesn't keep her very warm.

At first, Phoenix wasn't sure what he was looking at. A canine, surely, but oddly shaped and colored; things he recognized as unnatural first, before the details started coming to him more accurately. Tilting his head, as if to better interpret what he was seeing, the red-branded wolf noted now that he was looking a small, painted she-wolf backed by an additional pelt rent from the back of some other poor creature. He was immediately repulsed, and bore his teeth at the psycho who'd wear the fur of her enemies. (Because why else?)

"You sick fuck, wearing another wolf's fur like that!" he snarled, rounding to face her as he was no longer willing to allow her his backside. He was offended, despite having never known the "victim" or what it truly had been before, and he was prepared to defend himself from her derangement, if not ready rid the earth entirely of her forever.

What came next wasn't something she expected at all, nor did she see it coming in the dark. There she was, struggling to free herself from whatever branch had caught upon her, and then there was an agitated voice and some teeth and everything happened so fast — Lavender's memory briefly flashed with images of being attacked before, and she let out a small whine as the stranger turned to face her.

But they didn't attack her. They looked at her like she was something new, something vile, as if they were afraid. Nothing like this had ever happened to little Lavender before. She didn't know how to experience the utter revulsion writ across the stranger's gaunt face. Thankful suddenly for the darkness (for it would hide the fact her eyes had become blurred by a glossy sheen), she tried to explain: W-wait! I'm not — I didn't do anything — don't be scared, she pleaded, but simultaneously pushed against the ground and tried to reverse against the branch which held her.

The motion helped her get unstuck, however, now Lavender was stuck in a different way. Behind her were tangled trees and before her was this agitated wolf. Please don't hurt me! She called out, and ducked against the soil as if making herself smaller would appease the copper-wrought titan.

Phoenix, for all his aggression in this scenario, had the prudence to be confused at first by her frightened submission. Surely evil wolves didn't do that, but he somehow suspected that this tenderfooted act was just that: an act -- a ploy -- to put him at ease. He bristled, gritting his teeth as his instinct to trust her sunken posturing warred with the things he simply didn't understand. She had called him scared, a word that offended him despite knowing that it was true. He was afraid of this merle sprite, and what he imagined she had done in her young, sweet life. And unfortunately for her, with his fear came unrefined violence.

"Why shouldn't I?" he growled, taking a step forward as if to prove to her (and himself) that he wasn't fearful.

He didn't come to heel with her display, or her words. The stranger was just like the thing that had attacked her ages ago - filled with a nasty entitelment to violence, and eager to impart damage upon her. Lavender did what came naturally and rolled, finding it easy to slide to her side and then to her back, exposing her plush belly with her limbs tucked. Had she a tail she would've tucked it, as it was, she wriggled awkwardly on her back instead and hoped her little whines would suffice. She ducked her snout away from him when he made his bold step towards her, and the insistence in her voice lifted the tone of her voice to a youthful pitch: I didn't do anything why would you hurt me if you just met me -- you -- bully!

With her eyes squeezed shut, Lavender lashed out with a swat of her front limbs, then a kick of her hinds, and then she was struggling because she'd fallen against her side and her beautiful coyote coat was weighing her down; she couldn't right herself very swiftly, and the coat gathered grass stains and mud in the process. She staggered and crawled on her belly, appealing to the stranger with frantic licks at the air - aiming for his chin or cheek, as one might with an agitated alpha - and found she was too afraid to get anywhere near him, so she only tasted the cool air while doing her ridiculous display.

Phoenix watched in pure astonishment as the girl rolled over. Repelled, he drew back, looking as if a strong gust had just creased him. Thoroughly bewildered, the yearling struggled to save face. "Hey—wh-what are you—" He went to command her to stop groveling and be evil so he could hurt her and feel good about it, but she cut him off with a plea—and tacked on a hurtful bully! to go with—and Phoenix was effectively cowed.

He stood frozen as she batted at him, and then—whining all the while—crawled towards him submissively. A trick! ...Right? On edge and bristling in a way that made him look more porcupine than wolf, Phoenix extended his muzzle towards her and sniffed. She smelled like... a pack, he thought. Sort of dusty, like plains, but mostly she smelled of this desolate place. Her energy was genuine, however, and Phoenix felt his paranoia shift to a mild defensiveness as her tongue grazed his chin. Oh, how he missed such closeness.

He stepped back from her. "Stop that," he huffed. "You got on another wolf's skin. You're obviously evil, no introductions needed."

His reaction didn't make sense, but he didn't seem intent on attacking her so Lavender took that as a win. What he said was a bit confusing until she'd rolled over again, on to her front, and remembered the now-soiled pelt she wore. This? She murmured lowly, with a shrug that made the pelt jostle, This isn't -- I didn't do this. My dad did. And it isn't a wolf, it's only a coyote. The more she spoke the more confident she felt, but after the flow of words ended she gave pause and looked at the dirt. It was easy to understand where his misgivings came from - but a coyote was a pest which meant they were fine to target. I would... I would n-never wear a wolf pelt, that just sounded -- ugh!  Her stomach rolled with the implication. I just.. Get cold.

As she explained, Phoenix felt the dawn of understanding bloom with warm embarrassment inside his chest. It was only on principle did he remain rigid, seemingly unwilling to give her the pass so easily. The news that it had been a coyote was especially helpful, feeling a bit biased towards them himself, yet he kept the edge of his bladed manners pointed at her, his copper eyes gleaming with quiet mistrust.

"Fine," he grunted, falling into a dissatisfied sit as he watched her hawkishly. "I guess you're just adapting then." He'd never met another wolf besides his father who'd had to overcome something about themselves they couldn't help; but it helped him better understand and accept her predicament, albeit with some haughtiness.