Golden Glade rien pour l'instant

A low rumble of thunder introduced the rain that they were bound to receive, and it added to the foul mood Phoebe found herself in. Sure, maybe the forest was nice for the simple fact that she wasn't going to get entirely soaked by a brief summer squall, but it hardly made a home. Even with everyone, and she thought everyone, helping to establish their borders and add all those pockets of creature comforts, it still wasn't home.

The plateau would always be home, she decided. In time they'd all go back there because someone else would happen here because that was simply the way that life seemed to work. Good came with the bad and they went where they were happy. Eljay had done it. Towhee had done it. Niamh and Tegan and on went the list—they went where they were happy.

She kicked at a branch in her path and sent it flying, as though it could punctuate the growing frustration in all of this change. It did, at least for her, but also did not quell the sulking that seeped onto her frame as easily as the water clung to her summer coat. Skirting along a thick grove of trees she didn't know the name of, she ignored the assailing scent of some potent herb in favor to pick up the stick she had cast away. She shook it roughly as another thought crossed her mind—siblings.

Phoebe hadn't forgotten about them in the move either. That was part of the move too, wasn't it? Coming there to relieve themselves of unhappy memories and start new ones and apparently that meant more siblings. As if the lot of kids they had just picked up weren't enough to keep the pack busy, there would be more in their midst. But what about them, the ones who were already there? Granted, she was hardly a child any longer but the feeling did not escape her.

She snapped the stick in two, frustration reaching a fevered pitch.

Rain rain rain.

She supposed it was the beginning of summer rather than the last vestiges of spring. ere was a noticeable difference in the rain of spring compared to the rain of summer and fall. There was the tempo of it all — spring and fall rains were gentle, where summer rain was a torrent of liquid. The smell of it was different as well. Also the look. The feel...

It was a very nuanced thing, the seasonal differences, but all Orson could think of was that it was extremely annoying to have rain be the dominant weather forecast. She was tired of the damp. The sun had not been hot enough to drain the water from the soil, so sleeping was extremely annoying and sticky.

She spent most of her time in forests and got a master class on the umbrella-like nature of each species of plant. She was quickly learning that this forest, full of sugar maples, was decent in deterring rain from her body. So she decided to linger for a while. Occasionally a large drop of water plopped right on her head and she growled in irritation, but it was not the worst thing that could happen. 

A stick snapped nearby and it immediately drew her attention. Orson approached the noise, crouched and ready to run, either away if it was a threat, or towards if it was potential food...It turned out to be a wolf. A dark feminine creature with something on her mind. Orson chuffed and relaxed...slightly.

Tags are for reference!

Raven had been roving the fringes of their forest all morning, adding marks to accompany those already laid down by others of the pack. @Quixote had definitely been busy, as had @Rannoch and @Liffey, and she was glad to see a strong show of presence by others of her leadership. Since the Redhawks had made their claim of this place, they'd done their best to run off what few strangers had dawdled across their borders. Raven had never been much of an aggressor where border defense was involved -- Towhee and Quixote had always handled that efficiently enough that they'd had little need for her anyway -- but that was changing now that things were different. The heavily pregnant alpha female couldn't afford to risk stragglers wandering about her forest with her new litter due in a mere few weeks. As far as she was concerned, anyone who wasn't a Frosthawk was a threat.

She was following the scent of her daughter, now, having noticed her distance and discontent over the last few days and wishing to catch up with her and hopefully smooth things out. As she drew nearer, though, she suddenly detected a scent she didn't know, and this set her nerves on edge. Bristling slightly, she tracked that scent to a wolf of large stature, draped in all the varied hues of earth and winter. "Excuse me," she called as she approached, spotting Phoebe's dark form nearby as she did. Her elevated head and tail indicated a wolf of higher ranking, and a wary, guarded expression lingered on her face. "These are claimed lands, and that's my daughter you're watching. What is your business here?"

One half of the stick fell loose from her mouth, tumbling towards the ground with nothing more than its essence left behind. She dropped the other half just as quickly, boring of the action but mostly because of the pieces it left behind in her mouth. She worked them out quickly, tongue scrapping back against her teeth in lieu of the ability to spit. It wasn't the most effective thing she could do, but it certainly beat swallowing damp, rotting wood.

That of course, quickly became the least of her worries.

Startled by the chuff, the guard hairs along her spine and shoulders prickled uncomfortably the moment she laid eyes on the stranger. There was nothing familiar about the she-wolf; she had not traveled with them, certainly did not belong to the Frostfurs that she was less acquainted with. It was an instantaneous rise of rushing dread then—these woods were far less safe than the plateau it seemed—and she had been only a second away from calling out for aid when she heard her mother's voice cut through the ambient din.

Her breath escaped her then, relieved—Phoebe quickly moved to be closer to the dark matron.

rip me

feel free to beat her up if she's being too much of a jerk

It all escalated within a few moments. After Orson's chuff, the dark woman jumped in surprise, seeming almost ready for an attack. She looked rather silly given the stick that was wedged firmly in her mouth, so Orson chuckled. Hallo the— Just as she began to speak, another woman, older, round, and almost ready to pop out her spawn, came to the protection of the young woman. She shook her head and took a step back. I was bein' amiable, ma'am, tae yer daughter, she said, looking pointedly at the wolf. She now recognized the pure childishness of her — how the brown wolf moved closer to the plump matron for protection. I mean, I can kin yer hostility, given yer condition. She gestured pointedly then to the woman's round sides.

Pardon the shortness — I’m at work but wanted to get a reply up!

She flashed her daughter a look of approval as the girl scuttled closer toward her — Raven wasn’t in much condition to fight, if things happened to escalate in that direction, but she would do whatever it took to protect her child no matter the cost. Fortunately, the stranger’s behavior was not aggressive, and while Raven still remained on her guard, she allowed herself to relax a tiny bit.

Her attention back on the intruder, she continued, ”I apologize for the brusque greeting, but my pack has recently claimed this forest and everyone who isn’t one of us is a threat. Can I ask your name and what brings you past our marked boundaries?”

Hostility given her condition? Phoebe's eyes narrowed sharply—this wolf was encroaching on the land that her mother had set to claim. But it was a fleeting thing, overridden again by the anxiety that bloomed in the absence of anything better. She felt awful for a moment, hiding behind her mother, but she was not versed in such things and still in some semblance very much a child unwilling to rise to the threat.

She stayed silent as her mother handled it with tact, her gaze not once leaving the stranger. She too was curious what had drawn them into their wood admittedly, though she had wished they had never appeared in the first place. Phoebe didn't need reason to dislike the glade—she had plenty of reasons without this being one of them. Perhaps they'd take their leave early and leave them be, or maybe they should have a change of heart and show them another way altogether.

Slapping a conclusion on this so it can be archived, since Orson has gone inactive!

The stranger introduced herself as Orson, and though her reasoning for wandering past clearly marked boundaries wasn't satisfactory in Raven's opinion, she still humored the other wolf long enough to make a few more moments of idle conversation. After a short time, Orson left and once the alpha female was satisfied that the intruder was indeed gone and meant no ill will toward them, she turned to Phoebe. Brushing the girl's shoulder with her nose, she commented, "I'm a little hungry. How about you?" Gesturing for her daughter to follow -- not only because she actually was hungry and liked the notion of sharing lunch with Phoebe, but also because she didn't want Phoebe out here alone in case Orson decided to come back and cause trouble -- she led the way back toward the inner sanctum of their territory to see if Quixote had managed to run down some lunch.