Sleepy Fox Hollow tulipa gesneriana

takes place on the outskirts, so maybe @Ceraphina? :)

Waxwing teased the border of Gespensterwald, the forest near the south. Here, he found traces of several small game animals. There was also the telltale markings on the barks of trees: a herd of deer. How big or how small, the young man could not say. Olive eyes recorded each of these things separately, c collecting them to report back to @Mahler what he had found once his exploration of this area was complete.

Thank you for starting! ♡♡

The wind had swayed just northwest of the ghost forests, causing the pale nose of a certain young lady to twitch in immediate interest. Ceraphina, too, had picked up the traces of where prey seemed most abundant -- and wasting no time to stand around and wait for it to come for her, she was on the move.

The witch's slight frame moved through the trees with ease, coming closer to where the trail was most potent. Her hunting was improving with persistence -- though not on par with an expert's skills, it was sufficient enough to no longer rely on forigables to get by everyday. Hares were Cera's favorite, squirrels her second -- and with learning the importance of stealth and patience, the girl didn't have as much trouble catching the small vermin as before. With a grin and a prideful huff, she walked into her next hunt with confidence.

Turns out this whole "adulting" thing wasn't as difficult as she'd originally thought. Mother was clearly overreacting....

Yet that confidence slowly began to drain the closer she got; intertwined within the scent of wild game, just behind dense foliage, was yet another plethora of scents. Cera sniffed once again with a frown -- this place was marked by other wolves.....

....which of course, hadn't stopped her.

Well, Cera certainly hadn't seen anyone lurking around to catch her, so the she-wolf would slowly begin to step over the connected boarders out of curiosity. Yet just to make sure, she looked around, one last time...

Having grown up in the comfort of a small, tightly-knit family, Waxwing was used to the occasional interloper into their game lands. His own mother and father had been kind to those who wished to hunt, so long as they did not take more than they could eat on their own. So when the young man spotted the dark wolf with white tips sneaking her way into Gespensterwald, Waxwing raised a brow, but he did not attack on sight.

Instead, he woofed to announce his presence, then intercepted her path. He followed what Mahler had done with him, giving the girl—the very pretty girl!—an expectant look, hoping she might explain herself.