Qeya River a dollar for your future... a dollar for your fate.

she's not trespassing.

The river from the mouth of the glacier. Isra had followed it upstream from the Bitterroot Valley. However, she stopped at the scent markings. How cruel. One could hardly ever finish what they started.

Who lived here? Were they as ignorant as the rest? Or were they running too, just a step ahead? Isra surely was.

he'd gone barreling through the woods, past where he'd been instructed to stay and out to a stretch of the territory he'd not yet visited. a sibling had been previously hot on his trail but he must have lost them in the unfamiliar cut of terrain he now stumbled through.  

it was by pure accident that the little mischief maker happened upon the stranger. what a freak, was the first of his thoughts when he caught sight of her, the unusual pattern of her coat leaving him in utter disbelief that she was real. but wait, who was she anyways? 

he sprung from a nearby bush, hackles flared and mouth parted to let out the most ungodly sound he could muster in a high pitched alert. if one happened to be near enough, they might have confused sparrow for one of those incredibly annoying squawking rubber chickens.

trespassing rules are decided by PMs, and QR is very defensive of its territory. but since she is not past the border i will not roll dice immediately!

sparrow's alarm bell sent wren reeling, rocketing, driven by a burning instinct that told her the fragile balance of peace was about to be shifted by an interloper. when she arrived, she was a flurry of raised hackles and teeth, thorns caught in the light guard hairs of her gruff shoulders.
her son was the spitting image of her, and wren buries her prideful notion long enough to try and soothe him, moving to guard her young boy.
who the hell are you?

Freak indeed. Her coat wasn't the only unusual thing about Isra. The pup springing from the brush didn't faze her. She only ever feared Him. The spectre that haunted her mind and steadily chipped away at her sanity did not normally leap from bushes. However, the sound the youngling created was rightly unpleasant.

Isra did not shy away from the older woman's teeth, reveling in her anger. She took note of how the pup and adult shared the same appearance, evidently kin. 

She turned her attention to the ash-colored youth. "Y'see, He's always watching. Always there. Never talkin'. Never." Her voice was calm, and she spoke in an informative tone.

Who the hell are you? Who was Isra, but the one who stared Him right through His empty, voided eyes. The one who ran. The one who was always a step ahead. Always one step. Just one. She grinned. "Why, I'm the one who got away..."

bristled and ready to throw down, sparrow remained steadfast as mama came charging upon the scene. he puffed out his chest proud and arrogant, a few angry snorts of air sent hurling towards the stranger like he were an enraged bull.

the lady spoke, and he was quick to twist his lips to a judgmental sneer. "fenómeno," he yapped when she turned to speak to him. "weirdo! shoo, shoo!" he demanded, a paw raised to drive off the stranger from their home.

wren wanted to laugh at her son's insistence, her heart fluttering at the sound of her wife's tongue being mirrored in their baby boy. he was so brave, so proud of his home!
and he wasn't wrong, either. the rangy girl drones on about something that, frankly, was not the business of the prima, nor did she find herself willing to care about it.
take your freaky schizo shit elsewhere, you're scaring my goddamn kid, she stands resolute beside her boy, flashing her teeth with a flicker of unfurled tongue. you're gonna regret it if you come any closer.

"Is it your child that is frightened, or is it you?" Ignorance was bliss, and the two in front of her clearly indulged in it. Oh, He would come for them all. He'd come for everyone, and there was nothing one could do but stay one step ahead. One step. She let out a harrowing cackle, one that echoed through the trees and shook the birds to their very core. Isra locked eyes with the woman, emerald staring into hickory.

"He never closes a door without openin' another. Sometimes that door leads to a pit." Isra had no more words to offer, and so she gave the bold pup a crocodile smile, before turning away in an indifferent fashion. She'd follow the river back downstream, always staying one step ahead of Him. Just one.

last from me!

sparrow was more brawn than he was brains, but even he could recognize when to shut his trap. the nutcase cracked a whip at his mom and the boy just about launched himself at the spotted freak. scared?? him? her!?! he tossed a fuming glance at his mother, ready to charge forward in her footsteps should she set after the interloper.

he wasn't scared, and neither was his mama! "wacko," he mumbled from under his breath as the stranger turned to continue her delusions elsewhere. emboldened by their successful thwarting of a psycho, sparrow stomped forward a few steps, lifted a hind leg, and proceeded to mark his home as instinct directed.

take that, freak!

everything about wren's countenance would indicate the complete and utter absence of fear, and rather the distinct manner of annoyance. 'he' opened a door alright. sounds like somethin' crawled right up your ass, she heckles. and don't fuckin' look at my kid like that, you polka-dot twat. come back here again and i'll feed your heart to my wife.
she watches the speckled heiffer scurry off into the brush, not willing to peel her eyes away until she was surely gone. she'd have to send @Ksura and @Senka on extra patrols for a bit, then, she decides; no stone would be left unturned with a lunatic crawling around their turf.
she bends down to kiss her son between his ears, but before she can do so, he toddles away from her and — hikes a leg. it was certainly a sight that dispelled the tension which hung in the air. look at you, protecting ma, she reaches out to teasingly ruffle the fluff of his shoulder with a swipe of her paw. you should become a guardian when you grow up, sparrow.

Ksura was breathless by the time he sped to the scene. Sparrow shout had been so distant that at first, he wasn’t sure he’d heard it. He cut through the pack lands to cut the time it’d take him to arrive near the borders, and when he came in range of the stranger’s scent blown inland from the borders, he bolted. 

He arrived to see only Wren and Sparrow; the scent of the boy’s urine on the air, while the stranger’s lingered still. He greeted his leader with a low, wagging tail and a sniff to her chin, to gather scent if there were any, noting the tension that lingered faintly in her posture. He turned, and sniffed the place where the stranger had stood.

He turned his head to Wren. ”Trouble?” He asked, then.