Blackfeather Woods the heart's content

Namira's Mire (east border) by Otter Creek.
@Okeanos is travelling with her.

The moody forest painted the horizon with a streak of black, and in the early morning hours the pair crept towards it. They'd slept a bit by the riverside adjacent, with Ibis falling in to a light sleep against her brother after an hour or so of stargazing. It had been a clear night, but the morning sky was layered with fat clouds that appeared to be gathering and darkening. The smell of rain was in the air although nothing had fallen; it was with this in mind that the pair decided to venture in to the foreign forest. If the rain did start up there was no telling how bad the weather would get, so they'd need some kind of shelter. The trees appealed to both Ibis and Okeanos, but after an hour or so of wandering there was some clarity: the ground beneath their feet was soggy with mud and cold, which made their trail irregular and soured Ibis' typically good mood. She didn't like the feeling of the mire between her toes, the way the brown muck streaked her nimble legs, or the smell — and it seemed quite pungent, that smell. Unlike anything she was accustomed to, heavy and thick and sour. Hopefully they'd make their way north quickly and find some place to bathe.

Ramsay slipped into the old habit of solitude so easily that he often forgot he was supposed to be leading a pack. Days had passed since the last time he interacted with anyone that wasn't Maegi or Parvarti, long enough for his legs to feel stiff and his body lazy as he plodded through the territory's eastern swamp. This wasn't like him. Ramsay was a diligent wolf in his own little way, but he was also a loner by nature. What he thought he wanted and what actually suited him were rather different things. That was made clear by the lack of motivation for anything else that followed the birth of his offspring; now they were more important than these woods to him.

There were still borders to tend, however, and at last he reached them. His face deepened into a scowl as he inspected them; the scents were not faint, but they were not dominated by his either. Aiming to remedy that, Ramsay began a patrol, lifting his leg mechanically every few feet to refresh his own scent markers. He was mid-piss when the sucking sound of someone walking through mud reached his upturned ears. Stopping abruptly, the Morta flagged his short tail and steered his truncated body fiercely toward the sound.

Ibis and Okeanos materialized very suddenly and much too close to his claim for comfort. Ramsay met them with a warning growl and an authoritative stance. Cold eyes roved over them both and softened only a little when he realized they were just yearlings; his soft spot for the young seemed to have changed somewhat now that he had his own. You're too close, he brusquely told them.

She really didn't like being here.

That didn't change when a voice permeated across the muck, catching her by surprise; at first Ibis looked over her shoulder for Okeanos despite the sound coming from elsewhere, and when she determined it wasn't him that spoke, she looked around. When Ibis' tired eyes fell upon Ramsay's stunted form they went wide with surprise. A part of her brain wasn't sure what it was looking at; it was a wolf as far as she could discern, and the lack of a neck didn't immediately register. Ibis went right in to scout mode and with a few slick steps in the mire, she paused to say, I'm sorry -- we're sorry, rather -- Neither of us have been this way before, um, the hours of hiking had taken their toll and Ibis wasn't exactly focused enough to be fully coherent. She tried taking a deep breath to steady her nerves and explain, We're heading north. Will that take us away, or too near?