Grouse Thicket king of the road

After having a quick chat with Bruges on her way to find Ambrose, Niamh practically bolted through the thicket, tail waving high above her haunches. She didn't pay much attention to any other scent in the area once she caught his tracks, and beat a direct path along his trail. It was almost too good- first her older brother- even though he could be a bit of a stick in the mud, she still loved him- and now her littermate. And while Bruges had never been fond of rough-housing, she knew she wouldn't have to hold back with Ambrose, or worry about him stepping out of the way with the same, wicked-fast movement that Bruges had. 

She made a fair racket as she ran, leaping over some bushes but ploughing through a fair amount of the other ones, getting her blonde fur all covered in small sticks and burrs as she went, but she knew she was close. She caught Ceara's scent but didn't pay her any mind- and didn't even slow her pace when she saw the two together in the distance. If nothing else, Niamh lowered her head and put on an extra burst of speed, making a beeline toward her brother. 

She was still a good few paces from him when, in a manner most unprofessional when it came to greeting another wolf, she bellowed. Aaaaaaaamm-BRO!" She said, extending the first syllable of his name until the moment she hurled herself at him, losing the last couple of letters of his name in boisterous, raucous laughter. She knew the impact would hurt, but she didn't care- they'd never held back before, so she certainly wasn't going to hold back now.