Witch's Marsh at the center for holy wars

@Viggo / @Fox

After the somewhat fraught reunion with her sister, they'd both agreed to take some brief time apart to decompress. It was wonderful to have Eshe back, but there were aches and bruises between them that needed to heal, and although Bhreac didn't doubt they'd find their footing once again, and they had parted on a positive note, it was good to take the afternoon to clear her head. She'd agreed to see about joining the pack Eshe was looking to join with the following day, but for the moment, she struck out on her own, belly full for the first time in what felt like ages as she explored the immediate area.

It was all somewhat average — forests, lakes, rivers, grasslands. She appreciated that her sister had found them another valley, because at least the heights surrounding them felt familiar, even if it wasn't nearly the dry, sparse expanse they'd grown up in. After a while, the trees thinned out and the fresh air began to feel a bit odd and acrid; shortly after, Bhreac came upon a marsh that looked as though all the color had been sapped from it.

She briefly considered turning away and continuing her jaunt in another direction, but a few steps in revealed that even the bits of soggy, grey ground that appeared firm could be mud that suctioned her paw in with a sickly slurp. Some spots that were covered with an inch or so of water felt solid and rocky beneath her feet. It didn't seem dangerous, exactly, to pick her way amongst the cattails and buzzing insects, just a little bit risky — and because of that, a little bit fun. It was exactly the sort of silly, challenging terrain Bhreac had always liked picking her way through, but lately, she hadn't had much time for pointless adventures.

Bhreac supposed if she was meant to be start her life over, it was good to start with a small adventure. And so she kept going, carefully testing out various surfaces in the marsh as she made her slow progress, tail wagging behind her.

After his trip to Bearclaw Valley, Viggo went north and a smidge to the west. He intended to explore the surrounding areas then return back to Lost Creek Hollow and report to his brother... uncle... thing. He really needed to decide on a better term for Mordecai. Or just refer to him as his "distant relative." But they were far from distant. They lived in the same pack, dangit! Shaking his head, Viggo trudged onward through the marsh. Sooner or later, he would start making his way east, but for now he was content to explore the boggy waters.

Movement caught his eye, and he spotted a white coat up ahead. Viggo had been much more outgoing in his youth, though since Ptarmigan's death, things had not been the same. Still, he headed toward the stranger, knowing that it was better to approach her now rather than a) be snuck up on or b) sneak up on her. "Enjoying the mud?" he asked, once he was close enough to do so.

She was a pretty thing. Younger than himself, he guessed, and certainly not hard on the eyes. Maybe the best way to get over Ptarmigan was to do what he had always done before she had even come into his life. Charming girls and getting them to canoodle with him had once been a frequent pastime of his.

Bhreac froze, startled — though he hadn't exactly snuck up on her — when the other wolf called out to her, one paw hovering in the air over the muddy ground. Her paws by now were black with dirt, and she briefly considered that after taking a dip in the lake not long ago, the best thing to do was not to immediately go splashing around a marsh, especially since her fur was a mottle of nearly-white hues even when clean. The wolf before her seemed friendly, and normal; his fur was a mottle of grey and brown and white and colors in between, with warm golden eyes. 

"Quite a bit, actually," Bhreac said with a shrug, eying the stranger carefully. She dropped her waiting paw to the ground, side-stepping slightly to find a more solid patch of earth, in case she needed to turn and run. She was beginning to realize, though, that she didn't need to be so wary, but it was a hard thing to unlearn, since her only real interaction with non-family had been so overwhelmingly negative. She gave her tail a bit of a wag, though she wasn't quite comfortable enough to smile. "Sorry if I scared you. I look like a bit of a swamp monster."

Well, at least she wasn't one of those dainty girls afraid of dirty things. Yes, he did just think "dirty things." Maybe getting back into this old pastime was good for him, after all. "Swamp monster?" he queried, then lifted the corners of his mouth into an easy smile. "Far from it, my dear." Even though Viggo probably couldn't go through with it, flirting was something that he was picking back up with ease. He had thought it would be more difficult than this, but it was like riding a bike... or whatever the wolf equivalent of that would be (hunting, maybe?).

"I'm Viggo Ostrega, a relative of Mordecai's, if you're familiar with him." It was not far-fetched to think that Mordecai might know some wolves in these parts. Mordecai had been here for quite some time, after all. Little did Viggo know that the girl was actually part of the same troupe as himself. However, the two of them were still far enough apart that their scents wouldn't travel that far. Especially not with the lack of wind.

Far from it, my dear. The somewhat overly familiar form of address made Bhreac smile slightly, as did the implicit compliment, though she didn't really have a response. Flirting wasn't something Bhreac was familiar with — perhaps for the best, since she'd seldom encountered wolves who weren't related to her before. Still, there had been the occasional passerby or friend of a relative who'd spent time with their pack here and there, and she'd probably had a crush or two before, but it just hadn't been part of her former life. Perhaps it would've come up eventually — perhaps Bhreac and Eshe would've left home, even without the additional impetus. 

Regardless, she wasn't sure how to respond to a comment like that, so she just wagged her tail for extra emphasis, and then listened as he introduced himself. She nodded immediately, glad to have a touchstone.

"I know Mordecai," Bhreac said. "I'm joining his pack — you will as well, if you're his relative?" Bhreac asked, although she'd met multiple wolves who seemed to have far less fond a regard for their families as she did. It only seemed natural, to her, that if you had family, you would stay near them. "I'm Bhreac Endore," she added, "aspiring swamp thing."