Broken Antler Fen with scarves of red tied 'round their throats

for the second time since her exodus from the woods has she left her new home, spurred mostly my doubt.

it lingers, like a bitter taste in the back of her mouth. should she have gone with maegi? she was, truly, the last family she had left. and yet, would she not feel the absence of her sister, her mother, so much more sharply should she return to her old haunt? her mother's body was still there, the tree that had crushed her, too. people that knew what had happened. and she could not face them.

that made her a coward, didn't it? she felt hot shame at the thought, though surely it had to be true. 

coward.

she starts, the muttered word close and soft and harsh. had she said that aloud? she could not remember her maw moving, in the same way as before. slightly unnerved, she continues on, a fair distance from what is unknowingly @Praimfaya's claim but approaching it at a steady clip.

praimfaya moves along the borders of roangeda, growing clearer and stronger with each pass, with each wolf she draws into her kru, pausing here and there to mark them. she grows ever troubled by the rapid changes of the wilds: what has thus far come in the wake of the earth's tremors and what is to come. the scarcity of the herds is unnerving but she tries not to let paranoia become a constant companion. it has dacio has said: they would survive this ...and why should she believe anything less of her and roangeda's abilities? look what was accomplished thus far. sure, roangeda was still a fledgling pack but this was her's. blodreina might've laid its bare bones but everything beyond was accomplished solely by her. an impossible feat that was proving itself to be possible despite her tender age.

was there any doubt that despite her mother's status as natrona and her father's status as splita that she was a true commander? the evidence shows her that there isn't any.

the sound of approaching footfalls draw a cursory flick of her ear and her head shifts slightly, frostbound silver gaze seeing the steady approach of a silhouette upon the nearby horizon. praimfaya moves past roangeda's borders, moving to intercept the other with an imperious rise of her muzzle and a curl of her tail over her back. hei. the worlida calls out.

the approaching figure has her pause, neutral, initially, until the curl of her tail and the tilt of her muzzle becomes apparent. it is a girl her own age that approaches her, and the knowledge that they are therefore equals has her own tail curl, lips peel back a fraction. having no knowledge of the pack that settles just beyond she sees the approach only as an act of aggression, and reacts as such. 

Black Hat's advice comes to mind—do not waste the advantage of acting first. the word she barks out is too foreign, and all too easily interpreted as yet another sign of aggression. she's motionless until she isn't, surging forward to tear at the other girl's shoulder, remembering well the folly of a direct attack to the face, neck.

the other girl does not respond to praimfaya's greeting — though it was in trig most wolves understand it close enough to it's common equivalent ...until she does react: surging towards praimfaya in what the worlida takes as an act of aggression. her upper lip curls back from her teeth as the girl aims for her shoulder. praimfaya manages to side-step the girl — whose teeth are a hairsbreadth away from her flesh with a low snarl. a call could easily summon @Aleks or @Dacio — or any of roangeda's wolves to her side.

who was this girl to charge at her? praimfaya takes insult to it instantly. she was too close to roangeda's claim for praimfaya to take it as anything else. you are close to roangeda. the worlida attempts to steer this into something more ...civilized. stand down. a threat? a last chance? regardless, it was all praimfaya would offer. if the girl continued her physical assault, praimfaya would be forced to engage in battle.

no call was made, but ingram was always near his little girl — who no longer seemed so little.

a low roar sounded from the male’s throat as he saw a force hurtling towards his daughter. he was nowhere near close enough to intercept, but his large stride covered much ground — and in a matter of a minute he would be upon them.

he was not naturally a man of violence, but ingram had lost far too much to allow any harm to befall his daughter.  if the interloper did not desist, she would find very large fangs swiftly seeking her hide.

Oh, but he was already watching.

Dacio observed from a distance, watching with keen pastel eyes and dark ears cupped forward, as both his young ward and an unfamiliar juvenile seemed to stare one another down. He could tell by posture alone that the intentions of the strange girl were clear: she would not accept Praimfaya's assertion of dominance.

The ashen warrior was pressing on toward the duo just before one darted forward, closing the distance between him and them at a rangy trot. Considering the aspiring Wanheda's absence of pups her own age to train alongside, this could be a perfect opportunity to hone her fighting skills with the use of a more suitable opponent. Dacio's hackles pricked though figured would allow this, at least until the need arose to interfere.

It seemed Praimfaya's father did not share the same mindset, however, as he came charging onto the scene with a different purpose. "Enough!" Dacio barked his demand in his native tongue without consideration for Ingram, who may not know enough Trig to understand. The upward arch of his tail and curl of his lip was sure to communicate his desire to take control of the situation, however, and he veered to place himself directly among the group that had gathered.