Emberwood I realized it's all my fault, but couldn't tell you

They had made their way, at their slow pace, to a ridge painted red by the trees. Even in this season the trees held tight to their leaves, with many of the pines having turned red, and yet others gold, and everything vibrant. Indra thought she could hide well here - and so could @Gun; and if they were lucky, they could find shelter among those trees.
She did not realize there had been a camp here already. That the gang had hidden themselves upon this same ridge to mend themselves for a time, as they were not present when she arrived. Signs of their existence were scattered at best - she found the scents of fox most dominant, and she lifted her lip at the strong smell.
We can camp here, she told her companion, already scratching through the snow to make a sleeping place — thankfully among the red trees there was little snow, as it was collected upon the treetops. The land was damp and frigid but not so hard to navigate.

Gunnar headed towards the Emberwood himself. There had been a scare with one of his own and it ticked him off. He was a viking, perhaps his calm demeanor and his kindness hid that from many, but the simple fact was he was a fighter. Bore the scars to prove it, and if anyone, anyone messed with one of his children, pack mates, friends. It pissed the ole timer off.

He smelled stale scents on the wind, but then there was also two new scents sharp and tangy. And he followed them. Steel grey eyes took in the scene unfolding. There was only one that he could see, though he kept a weather eye on the surrounding area, but she looked familiar. He stared at her and chuffed, to get the girls attention.

Indra left Gun to make the camp, and to keep herself warm. She was capable of doing a quick scout of the area for anything they might eat, or any dangers, so they would split the work.
It was during this transit of the shadows that Indra realized the inherent problem with that: she was a ruddy looking creature, and with a backdrop of snow and shadow she was easily spotted; this was obvious when a figure upon the ridge called out to her. She'd been caught so quickly and so blatantly that she felt utterly stupid for her mistake.
The man looked old, fortunately. He looked — familiar, somehow.
With a squinted glance back the way she'd come, Indra debated whether she should play the fox and escape before anything could happen; but Gun was busy elsewhere, and there was no real threat from someone so old (or so she thought).
With a careful (but still somehow predatory) shifting of her steps, she approached. Her fur bristled, and she remained silent, aloof - hoping to give off an air of danger, but probably only giving off a surly vibe. Both worked, really.

The girl smelled of the wilds, and perhaps one other. Guns studied her with gun metal grey eyes. She obviously wasn't pleased to see him, but if she had paid attention to her surroundings, she'd not been caught. She was a bright red wolf.

Gunnar kept on guard. He was old sure, but he also was not one to not fight if he must. Though he loathed the thought of doing so with a child as old as Bjarna or Reverie. And a female to boot.

She moved closer and recognition dawned. He chuffed and shook his head. A wry smile on his face. I see the attitude hasn't gotten better since Sapphique.

The other wolf was guarded, and while Indra watched them she determined she was at a safe enough distance to skulk a little closer - to get a better view, and to ascertain if she could handle one wolf roaming the wilderness; she gave only a twist of her ears to the path behind her, where Gun was resting, but otherwise kept her senses trained exclusively upon the stranger.
When he spoke she thought, I have heard that voice before, somehow.
The man spoke of Sapphique — and for a second Indra was too surprised by the recollection to hide the flash of understanding from her eyes, or the way she perked up upon recognizing the name. She couldn't remember much about the coastal territory or anything, only that she'd been there once — and she'd been in such a tumultuous state that most of her visit there was blurred and smudged, as if the memories themselves were drawn in chalk and someone had smudged it away.
She scowled at the man, flashing one of her canines.
Why're you here then? Sapphique'z on the coast. Yer a little far, old man.

She moved closer and he could see for sure the look of her. It was indeed the girl from the pack lands he no longer went too. He frowned in thought she had disappeared before he had, but where she went and what she had done he hadn't know.

The minute he said the name of Sapphique, her eyes lit up in a way he wasn't expecting and she lifted her head in recognition. So perhaps she had been a bit happy there.

He rolled his own lip to show canine, a dangerous look entering his eye. She was near his territory and threatening the lives that lay nestled in the pack lands. The minute she attacked him all bets were off.

He spoke gruffly. I could ask you the same thing.

gun's idea of 'setting up camp' consisted of a few simple things.

1. picking a spot where nobody's ladyballs would freeze off: ✔.
   
2. digging herself and lil' red a cozy little sleeping den: ✔.
   
3. proudly pissing at regular intervals around the area: in progress.
   

it was with her leg raised against a tree for feminist reasons, that she spotted which exact way her buddy had gone. 

shaking off the excess, gun went after the tracks. snorfing deep every few steps, until she had to start plowing trough the snow, the mastiff grew irritated that the girl had ignored her educated advice on perimeter security. if you piss on it, it's yours.

when red got into view, easy to spot against the backdrop, gun's maws parted for a woof. 

she saw the man, and that stilled her quick enough.

the brute was no tactical genius. no master of social arts, that's for sure, but she saw the hackles, the tails, heard the snarled words, and it was reason enough to fire off some warning shots.

baying like a rottie, gun barreled downhill, aiming to scare off the stranger.

200 posts let's gooooooooooo

The man eyed her warily, she could see the apprehension in him, the flash of his teeth a counter-warning to the way she'd grimaced at him.

It's not my home, she started to say — but that was when Gun appeared. Her baying voice was unlike that of a wolf. By now Indra was accustomed to her oddities; but the sound still made her bristle and turn, as if under attack herself, and with one last glance to the old man Indra moved away so that she could be closer to her ally.

Over her shoulder she called, best run now, 'less you want to lose a pound or two! Her voice carried a false bravado which grew in strength the closer Gun got to them. Together they could take on this man if they really wanted; that wasn't ideal, given their weakness, but Indra didn't care.

Gunnar growled low in warning, though he didn't move to attack. He stood firm in his stance. He would leave, as easily as he came. Showing no outward fear, truthfully he wasn't scared, not for himself. But the pack mates beyond the borders he worried for them.

He'd need to tell @Bjarna and the others to have extra patrols. It seemed that the wolves that had bothered those of Swiftcurrent were back, and it didn't make him entirely happy.

Last for me, he left with his head held high. And tag is just for reference love.

old man tucked tail and went on his way. gun felt a smouldering pride that she still got it.

when the he-wolf was out of sight, her head turned to lil' red. her tongue lolled out the ugly side, mouth open in a smile.

"that guy gihe you trouhle?"

Indra watched him go without any care, and in fact felt very good about it, because she felt powerful for the first time in a long while. Even though it was an old man who meant no harm to her - being there with Gun, pretending they acted on behalf of the gang and nothing bad had yet to happen, all of it made her feel good.

The other woman slurred some words at her and she scowled, and then laughed.
Surprised he didn't piss, the way you came runnin'! Her tail waved briefly like a pendulum.

gun's humour was simple, so her laughter was roaring.

"don't shell yourshelf short, lil' red!" the mastiff thrust her hip at the leggier young thing. "if ya got any angrier, he 'ould'e 'ishtook you hor a hisshed ohh horcuhine!" 

the thought got her cackling more, spraying long strings of spittle.

after it, gun shook out her fur and chain. "hooo, hoy."

"let'sh go." she gestured with her shoulder back to camp. "i need to teach how hroherly mark your shtuhh."