Blackfeather Woods Fog comes in on little cat feet

Quiet's looking to meet any new people! Feel free to be frustrated by her silence.

This was a forest steeped in darkness, shadow and fog. Silence was paramount here; it was broken by the caws of the black birds that fluttered manically above or fell screeching below, by the cracks of branches under hooves or paws far off in the distance, but silence still remained. Quiet liked this place. If the pack had not been here, Quiet would have claimed this dark forest for herself and stayed here for the rest of her life, had she not loved to explore.

But there were wolves in this forest, wolves with dark hearts and clouded minds. She wondered if the darkness of the forest itself seeped into their souls and corrupted them beyond measure, tainting them for the rest of their lives. She had no way of knowing, having only met one wolf of this Dark Brotherhood of the Blackfeather Woods. But she would soon change that.

With no voice of her own to summon any of the wolves, Quiet followed the scents of the wolves that had crisscrossed this dark floor time after time. Her mismatched eyes flickered from side to side, looking for any sign of movement be it wolf or prey. She could go for a snack.

Macbeth, taking his new found duty to heart, could be found that day patrolling the borders. He wanted to spend some time today getting used to all the pack smells so a stranger's scent would set off his inner alarm bells. There was no point at all one day rushing towards the borders only to tell a higher ranking pack member they could not come in all because the dark male did not do his homework. He would not mind a good spar either, it had been a while since he got stuck into a good scrap.

It was moments later when excitement welled up inside him, an unfamiliar scent and not just any scent, there was a hint of coyote in this one. Picking his paws up off the ground he rushed to the source of the small, hoping it would not leave before he had chance to get there. Yet as he drew nearer he picked it up. It was faint but it was there, the small of the woods and a faint hint of Burke too so the creature must have been accepted. He snapped out of his own thoughts only to realise he was far too close to the coywolf to apply his brakes. He tried slamming his paws into the mud, but it slipped apart under him and a second later he barrelled into the female, paws first. He didn't move off the floor at first, but just uttered a simple "Sorry, 'bout that, bit slippery here don'cha think?"

Quiet froze at the sound of fast approaching pause. Her head cocked, triangulating the sound and hypothesizing the nature of the owner. It was most likely a wolf from the weight and softness, but why was this wolf running? As she turned her head towards the sound she gaped as a black and white male crashed into her.

The little coywolfdog tumbled over - her weight was vastly outmatched by the larger pureblood - but quickly regained her footing, her mouth bared in a slight snarl which quickly faded as the wolf explained itself. Quiet huffed, a rush of hot air exited her nose quickly. She stared at him, her mismatched eyes piercing as she observed the wolf - he lacked the red pawmark on his shoulder. Why didn't everyone have it?

At first she snarled at Macbeth and he was about to snarl back until she stopped, realising he had indeed collided into her by mistake. Then as they both got up she simply looked at Macbeth and did not say a word. He looked over, waiting for a reply, but nothing. Holding up a paw he waved it in front of her face and it was evident she was indeed 'with it' but still nothing. 

Macbeth huffed to himself, even he was not this rude. "Well I did say I was sorry, no need make a big thing out of it or anything, least you can do is yell at me or sommat, ignoring me is just childish, now isn't it?" He smirked to himself as he stepped down from his soapbox, confident in his ability to put the world to rights. He had no idea of how wrong he was.

Quiet blinked at the wolf, realizing that he had thought her rude for not speaking. Her mouth opened, and nothing came out, but any fool could realize that she was laughing hysterically, though nothing but air came out of her maw. There, silently as she had been her whole life, Quiet laughed at this wolf, her mirth rolling off of her and shivering down her sides. She calmed herself, still amused by the utter hilarity of his smug posture. He thought he was being impressive, that he was being the man here. How droll.

So sorry for the uber late-ness - won't happen again I promise - been busy creating a new business with my friend

It took a few moments but Macbeth finally twigged at what was going was going on here. He was not being deliberately ignored as he he first thought, but this creature had trouble speaking. The dark wolf found this quite curious, he'd never come across a mute before, is that what they're called? Mute? He mused to himself before snapping back into reality. "Ohhh I get it, you can't speak can you?" He smiled, pleased with himself for having worked it out in what he thought was a quick amount of time. Poor nieve Mac. Then suddenly he furrowed his brow and realised he was being laughed at. How rude! "Heeeey! Stoppit!"

Quiet's laughter subsided, the amusement growing cold as she calmed down. The little coywolfdog never thought there would be a wolf like him here in Blackfeather Woods. She had assumed that everyone here would be some kind of dark-hearted killer who worshipped this mysterious and malevolent god. She had assumed wrong. She should have given some benefit of the doubt.

Her tail wagging softly, the coywolfdog stepped forward and sniffed him, taking in his scent. She had no reason to know his name (she couldn't speak it after all), but his scent, voice and features were much more important. Quiet hoped that the wolf would realize this and not get surprised by the sudden intrusion of space.

Much to his surprise, when he asked her to stop she graciously did. She smiled at her and wagged his tail in thanks, figuring it was pointless for him to thank her vocally. He took a seat in front of her, but it was only moment's before she was in his face. He raised his eyebrows in uncertainty and started to pedal himself backwards a few steps, almost tripping over his tail in the process. Then he realised this must be how she got to know other wolves. He smiled at her and stood still, the after a few seconds he started to lean in close and smell her to make her feel better and less of an outcast.

Satisfied with her examination of the wolf, the hybrid pulled away, her tail wagging slowly as she watched him again. Quiet snorted once, her breath visible as she took a few more steps back and sat back on her haunches. Above them both, crows and ravens raised a cacophony of sound in the trees, feathers flying as they fought. Quiet's head snapped upwards as she stared at the creature, her eyes looking for the source of the sound. It was her first time seeing the black birds the forest was named after. She looked back at Macbeth, her eyes wide and curious, silently asking him about the ruckus.