The Tangle pure beast and skin

After the brief meeting upon her return, Thuringwethil still keeps her distance. Most of the time she stays in the northern territory, near the garden where Kendra is buried. With Portia on the mend, Dalia in recluse, there isn’t much activity up there. But this morning she is too restless, feeling the intensity burn. There is no real desire to give in to what her body wants, finding strength in the former commanders guiding her, and feels no shred of weakness as she leaves the border and makes way for the tangle.

It is not a territory she is terrible familiar with but it is wholly unpleasant to walk through. The dangerous juts and hard slopes aren’t easy to traverse, even for a cliff dweller, and the forest is thick with vegetation, making it equally frustrating to get through. It is enough to keep others from her should they advance, putting a decent sized barrier between them, and her nose is flared the whole time, listening for unsuspecting strangers at her most disadvantaged.

The days have begun to warm, and a good portion of the snow has melted. The constant drip of wet falls overhead as the morning sun burns against the tree tops and melts what has been left over.

edit: forward dated to 4/16

The boy was on his way back now-- his search had turned up no success, only wounded and attractive strangers. He had found no scent, no wolf who had seen or known him; Lennon was simply gone.
The Bracken Sanctuary still stood, though. Alarian would not abandon his pack, not for anyone. His friends and family awaited him, though he thought now perhaps they were one and the same. Those who stood by him could not be cast aside-- and didn't that count as being family?
The thoughts left him when he scented something familiar and saccharine on the wind. Ali froze; he had never really been into women, but the unmistakable scent of heat still pulled at him uncomfortably, however slight the feeling was. He turned, glancing all around to catch sight of the source until finally he spotted her-- unfortunately, he had not thought to stop walking, and found himself heading straight towards her in his distraction.
The territory had thus far proven annoying, but he had done a good job of ignoring it before, well, this. The thick vegetation had hidden the stranger well, and his concentration was firmly divided between his contemplation and his attempts at not falling on his ass. He blamed the terrain entirely.
Alarian's eyes widened in surprise; they were not terribly near to each other, but any proximity was enough to scramble his brain. He didn't want her, but the scent frayed his nerves anyway.
Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-- His ears flattened and he cut himself off, feeling it would not be a good enough excuse. Desperate to immediately banish any doubts about his intentions, he blurted: I mean, I'm gay anyway, so-- oh, hell. I'll shut up.
It didn't help that the woman was large, intimidating-- her posture spoke of authority. Instinctively he took a few steps back and lowered his own stance. The young Governor waited, breath held, and hoped the woman would not rip him open.

The good thing about the territory is the easy ability to hear someone coming from a distance (of course, it doesn’t silence her maneuvering and they can easily do the same) but she swings her head around the moment something comes from a distance. Thuringwethil remains still for a moment, tail sticking out straight behind her and her head held high until he comes into view. Dark slate eyes narrow, watching as he sorts through what’s going on and stumbling over his words.

More reassurance follows in the form of admitting to being gay but she barely acknowledges he’s said anything at all. Her jaw remains tense while she remains silent, simply watching to see if the other will prove his lack of harm and leave or if he’ll try and push his luck.

He half-turned to leave, then stopped as a thought struck him— he had no idea where to go. Earlier he had scented a pack near, and he knew to stay away from that— but right now, he could smell nothing but the stranger's heat. Ali glanced back at the dark woman, distressed, and took a few more steps back.
Do you um... know which way is out? I smelled a pack near here and I don't want to run into them— um, I just want to get back to my pack. Alarian spoke a little louder than normal to make up for the distance he had put between them, keeping himself half-turned away. He was ready to run if she decided she would rather attack him than help him, but— honestly, she looked like she knew where she was, and he just wanted away from here.

The other turns to leave and Thuringwethil doesn’t move, content to watch him disappear from view before she departs. However, she does not get the satisfaction. Before he’s completely turned around, he stops and turns back, shakily rambling on the best way to get out. A brow quirks again as she watches him, even breaths coming and going as she considers and the silence lingers long enough that she may not answer.

But with a disinterested lick of her lips, she offers one warning: ”the way you came.”

Silence wasn't very promising. Even before the dark woman finally spoke, Alarian had turned again to leave. The words at his back only hastened his departure. There was more than enough incentive to leave, now; he would rather not lurk to see if more angry females in heat frequented the place. Ears flat, he took her advice. Back the way he came, then.
Whichever direction that was. Uncertainty rolled over him again, but he resisted the urge to glance back. He knew by now not to test his luck— such endeavors frequently found him on the losing end. There was no time for that, now; Ali had somewhere to be.