Firefly Glen fever down in my bones

it all feels stupid, now. it had felt so right, so good, to get in fights and hate and burn in the heat of her anger. but now, as exhaustion and understanding comes and night falls on the glen she finds herself in, there comes only a dull acceptance of things as they stand. 

the girl pauses, finds herself in a clearing. above, the sky is unmarred by drifting clouds, baring those hundred, thousand points of light. for a moment, she feels, heavy in a way she's never before, as if she might sink into the earth and fade forever away from here. she sits heavily on her rear, flops onto her side, and stares up into the black. without her anger, she is lost; if not a daughter, who is she? a sister, for one. and the rest—she decides she'll have to figure that out.

Spending time away suits him more. He can shed the names he’s been given, and retreat back into what is comfortable for him. Odd how one once lonely could miss being, well, alone.
He traverses southward, down the path towards Firefly Glen as if it is becoming his own haunt. The supposed “Moonspear jerks” have yet to bother him, he doesn’t hunt in their territory. He hasn’t been hunting often anyway.
Champagne eyes find hold of sterling silver fur. At first he prickles, and then he relaxes. It seems he isn’t the only outcast out here.
Oh, you again. He says in lieu of a greeting. Despite the words, they aren’t spoken in an unwelcome tone.

gaze falls from the stars to land on the ugly jerk. "you," she echoes, though the discontent in her voice does not appear in her otherwise neutral demeanor. she shifts, propping herself up lightly on her haunches. "can't get enough of being beaten up?" she probes, though it had very much been the opposite way around last they'd thought. familiar anger stirs, easily riled up again should she wish it.

The Wayfarer’s great at making “friends”. This is more-so up his alley than other interactions had been.
He sits with a shrug of his shoulders—Nope, he replies easily, despite them both knowing exactly who won the last time. Maybe she’ll surprise him, get the upper hand this time, or maybe they’d have this weird, stiff conversation. Either way, he’s content to linger.

she considers a moment, and then, "too bad." she rises, stepping lightly toward him. "you're on moonspear's hunting grounds, so I'm gonna have to fight you." it's an odd situation she can not exactly make sense of; she wants to fight him, but lacks and real anger or motivation, this time. 

"it's the rules." she explains finally, and lunges for his shoulder.

She lunges for him, and the Wayfarer gets to his feet—not quick enough to flee from teeth slicing into it, but to brace himself and ready for the fight.
The Wayfarer doesn’t care how much damage she does this time. Using the latch of shoulder to his “advantage”, he presses forward, raising the opposite leg in attempt to grab a hold of her while teeth go for the neck again and attempt to tackle.