Hushed Willows yes my husband's gone to golden green to do some business there

"Esme?" Riley called, an ear bent towards the wavering strands of willow leaves as wind whispered through them. Damn, was she elusive.

Already, Esme had given him the slip twice in the last twenty four hours. Riley had lost her scent a mile or so back, but pressed on hopelessly, persistently.

No answer came, besides the soft sigh of summer -- the drone of bugs, of wind-rattled leaves. Riley set his back against a tall willow and skulked, licking at his sore toes as he tried to think of where to search next.

The fairy came in like a raging storm, a flame through the hollow as she tore through the foreset with a blaze of anger upon her face, a growl clawing itself from her throat. Distracted, an angered, Orlaith had thrown herself in a sprint and wander through the hollows, with minor interactions with @Eleuthera, but when the guard heard an unfamiliar call, she sprung.

Closer, her call of anger growled through the forest as she approached the fiend. The very smell that sparked a fury, as she called to him, "Halt! You are in claimed land!" Even more-so, someone who belonged to that group would not be treated with kindness, "you're kind especially, is not welcomed here."

Riley watched the braided ropes of willow as they shimmered, playing like gentle strings in the languid summer wind. There was a veil of sleepiness in this hollow, and he felt his eyes grow drowsy.

Steps, heated and hurried, stirred him awake. His eyes fluttered open in time to see a burnished she-wolf assertively greet him. It took several seconds for him to process and analyze all of this new information: first, the rich russet of her pelt -- then, the aggravated, toothsome aspect of her presence -- and finally, her subsequent statement.

What did she mean, claimed land? And what did she mean, his kind? Riley, who likely smelled more like Esme than anything, didn't understand. Was she referring to him being coywolf? She looked just as much a half-breed as he. He felt his back go up, though only his crocodilian gaze moved as it climbed from her feet to her fierce gaze with a nonplussed disinterest.

She was not Esme, and so, Riley hoped she would eventually go away.

Orlaith felt even more angered upon his silence, "You passed our border, and are in Seelie Court's territory." Perhaps the few weeks she had been gone, the borders have been staled? The fire fairy trusted the others enough that it'd be properly marked, but this man simply wandered in, "Anyone especially, from the Saints, will be thrown out." Her voice mixtured of simple pure rage and growling, she had already met a previous saint, @Derg earlier today, but yet had to face another?

Her back bristled in a defensive pose as she tucked her tail, a stance for challenge, "Leave or be forced to."

Behind her, Fionn stalked forward. Her voice had alerted him as he was patrolling, and so he shuffled through foliage to stand just behind her. If Orlaith was fire, Fionn was a shadow- a silent follower whose moves might echo her own. The trespasser was a fellow a little younger than himself, with an eerie gaze and a silence that spoke a message that he was careless to her words. Still Orlaith continued with reason, though the boy knew some types were too foolish to hear until a message was beat into them. The warrior narrowed his eyes, lip curling to show off just the tips of his fangs, though no movement was made yet.

Although not privy to the details, Memory was very good at getting information on other packs. It was easy to hear the story among the other Fae, A danger to the south. Savages. Called themselves the saints.
At first he wondered if some group of Venegance loyalists had sprang up, spreading his terrible legacy. 
Then, when he heard of their acts, he waited to hear from someone that a familiar red and black wolf was seen. Thankfully, that particular news hadn't reached him yet. 
He had been looking for Orlaith. They had gotten off to a bad paw, both running on instinct and old habits. He didn't want to be the monster he used to be. 
Her voice, an enraged snarl, echoed through the trees, and he followed it quickly. Well at least he could prove himself in battle beside her. 
She was towering over a tired looking male, who definitely did not smell like he belongs here.  Bristling, he curled his lips into a snarl, exaggerating the already hellish features of his face. 
"Leave. Now. Trust me, she'll kill you if she gets the chance." 

No such luck hoping the buzzing gnat in his ear would go away. She persisted, showing a neat set of teeth that she likely knew how to use.

It seemed his tired paws would not find respite here. After a small assembly arrived, Riley looked at each of them in perturbed silence. He had been searching for Esme, and now he was being assailed by natives in a land that was, as far as his nose told him, unclaimed (though clearly occupied).

He was not a wolf that would survive a three-versus-one. It didn't stop him from slowly rising, his hind leg lifting like a stilted marionette as a rancid stream of yellow liquid darkened the willow's trunk. Finished, he kicked up the soft loam with his hind paws in the canine equivalent of the middle-finger. "Where is Esme?" He asked, searching each of their faces with his one straight eye.

attack!

The name she heard before was repeated, but her anger pushed too far to care for his questions, or to answer to the tresspasser anymore. The wolf, with jaws on fire, lunged head-first to the wolf in a hopeful attack straight toward him. Especially so for his offense, where he could've left just as easily, but instead made a mockery.

No words were any more needed, as Orlaith lunged at his neck, a simple offense. She personally wanted to grab him by the throat to drag his mangled body out, and even more-so, with now help she dutifully noted behind, had a large ego to back up her desires.

There were adults talking, he could hear them. Curiosity drew him near, away from Pestilence who was normally someone he stuck close by to but this was far more interesting. He was slow at first, watching the scene unfold and getting a feel of what was happening. Black digit twitching as he picked out the smells of each individual and one... 

One of these things was not like the other~

Bingo. It was the brown dude, the one who everyone was talking to, the ones he knew who were a part of the pack he had just joined. That guy was apparently trespassing, and that, that was something that the Nightwalker in him had sang for. Oh how he loved this.

The man decided to piss on the spot, just as his leg was lifting, Cassidy lunged completely fearless in the face of this guy very certain that other members would join in to chase this bozo off who was pissing on their lands. Barking up a storm with every intention on making the first bite on the guy's leg, he was thirsty to exercise that energy that just never seemed to be completely spent. 

Maybe this would satisfy him. 

Bring on the pain asshole.

Soon Memory arrived, but still the trespasser dared to act careless, even disrespect their land with his stink juice. Fionn was ready to echo whatever move Orlaith made. He thought it pretty foolish, of this boy who was only a yearling by the looks of it, to piss off three adults with mercenary experience. Yeah. Bad idea. As Orlaith came for his throat, and a kid- wait, what's this kid doing here?- joined the scene, Fionn pulled forward too, curving just around the side to spin and kick back with the full force of his hind legs at Riley's flank.

The little shit had the nerve to piss on their land. 
So this is why everyone hated the Saints. It was also hilarious to him, how fucking dumb this wolf seemed to be. Not even Nix was this fucking stupid. 
Everyone flew at the poor fucker all at once, and Memory would have felt bad if he didn't enjoy, finally having something useful to do. He spied an opening and lunged, Aiming for the fucker's stomach. His jaws close on flesh and he shakes him violently like the rat that he is, relishing in his jaws finally closing around wolf flesh for the first time in what felt like far too long. 
he watched out of the corner of his eye as Orlaith tore into the man's throat, and even little Valium leaped in, making his father proud. 
Yep. This poor fucker might as well start writing his Epitaph.

Ok, I tried to get everyone's hits in, LMK if this doesn't make sense. I figured we could have him sustain major injury per trespassing rules even though it's not officially claimed, and he'll be attempting to escape this round. In order for him to get away I had to get a bit creative, but feel free to DM me if you have any concerns. FINGERS CROSSED FOR MY STINKY BOY

Riley, for all of his two functioning brain cells, knew his incendiary act would have incendiary consequences. His piss hadn't even cooled in the ground before vengeance came for him.

The first to assail him was the firebrand; first to come, first to strike -- and he was simply too close to evade her teeth, which seized him along the thick of his neck and dug deep. He was pelted in the rear in a horse-style double-barrel kick by another wolf he didn't even see, and then, and then, and then....

Too many teeth at once. Too much pain, too much sensory overload.

Riley's teeth were parted before he was aware of what was happening; he sought to retaliate in full to Orlaith, wrenching himself free as he attempted to rake his hungering fangs first down her seeking face, and then spin --

Only to feel teeth snag him like trailing vines every which way. A youth at his hocks, needling with teeth too young for the taste of blood. The man that had spoken suddenly at his flank, his teeth dragging a fresh line of crimson along his ribs..

Each would have their pound of flesh.

Riley's chances of escaping would be minimal if he kept fighting back. Even he, with a dearth of common sense, knew it was now or never.

Every now and then, there was a glimpse of the thing within Riley that some might call insectile - crocodilian - ophidian. Every now and then, despite the portly construction of his limbs or the lazy way his eye traveled, one might be struck with the impression he was of the same order as the anglerfish or alligator that lurked harmless along the green algae.

That hour came now.

Wherein before Riley had been possessed of an unhurried aspect, he was now actualized as the true competitor his powerful frame often suggested but rarely demonstrated. In a counterstrike to the wolves that crowded the limited real-estate of his flesh, Riley reared upwards in a porpoise-like dive, attempting to rid himself of Memory's hold by surging forward. Each of the wolves gathered like assembly-line workers at his sides might find it challenging then to keep up with him without trampling one another. Riley hadn't planned it, but having one side to the tree while he pissed (leaving his other side plenty vulnerable for attack) had one unintended benefit: it meant each wolf was crowded on top one another to get to him.

With a tremendous heave of his stalwart legs, Riley then dropped his head low like a bullsick ram, plowing forward heedless of any fangs that might thorn his progress. They would nick and rip and tear and cause him great harm, but his sole objective now was simply to escape their toothy reception.

He did not balk for pain nor fear, nor did he turn to issue further rebuke to his tormentors. Blood streaked in furious droplets down his handsome fur, splatters of deep crimson dropping to the parched earth as he went.

There was only one problem -- while Riley fled, he did not flee for home. He ran blind and breathless with the only goal to get away, one ear turned back to the wolves who no doubt would give chase.

"Chase him out!" A flurry of fangs to the crocodilian boy, but he was sly, and preformed an impressive dive to escape their attacks. However not without a serious of lingering injuries along his body, which gave her a satisfied grunt as she hollared out to the rest in an order to chase him out. Even without a kill, injuries had been given to a adequate level despite the bloodlust Orlaith held for the Saints, and even more-so toward their earthbound members (Derg and Riley).

He had plowed a few of them of the way but during so she kept a fire upon him, constantly trying to snag as he bulldozed them through to run. Upon the command she made a run toward him, hoping for bites at his ankles for his fleating attempt to stray his away out of their willows.

As much as she desired to completely chase him, to wrangle his throat between her fangs and drag him to the very desert the barbarian group lays- Orlaith would stop once he passed through their boders to another land, "Do not come back, a warning!" She growled through her teeth, her head held high to the opposer, "I will end your life, there will be no second chances!"

Thankfully all the adults did join in, immediately too! The guy was distracted by the bigger wolves involved and so Valium was free to focus on the things he could reach like the legs mostly but if the guy knelt down enough oh boy! He would snatch that face up so quickly! Though his adult teeth were coming in, the lack of musculature in his jaws was evident enough that his bites were not making the desired effect, but the boy continuously tried regardless!

Fuck this guy!

He would make a splash in this new pack and show them all what a valuable and fearless player he would be for them! The guy eventually slipped away and started running - one shouted for them to chase him out and chase he did! With his growing legs, still awkward enough feet to make him tumble more so than run, after the guy trying to flee.

Any adults giving chase too would simply run past him, but he wouldn't let this dishearten him. It was all about the attitude after all, growth would come later.

I'll wrap this up - thanks all! <3

There were voices behind him, but Riley was gone.

The image of Esme burned in his mind.

He limped, feeling the unnerving sensation of wetness slicking his flank. If they chased him, he was surely a goner -- but other than bites at his ankles and nips to drive him forward, the wolves of the willow did not pursue.

Riley was not one to count his blessings (or count, tbh). He pressed on in wheezing gasps, calling for Esme until his voice grew hoarse and his injuries forced him to sleep.

Orlaith gave her command, and Fionn readily obliged, chasing after the intruder for some short distance with little snarls and snaps of his fangs into empty air, intending to herd moreso than to land any injury. He was not interested, though, in hunting this fool anywhere further than he needed to- and once Riley had exited past the border, Fionn turned tail to make his way back into the willows.