Can't Keep My Hands To Myself

All in all, Jaelle was bored. She didn't feel a connection with these wolves, not yet at least. It was mostly her fault, she had been keeping to herself or with her silver knight as she so fondly called him. She smirked as she thought of the male, he had a stick up his ass that was for sure. He needed to loosen up and have some fun, and that was a job she had taken on herself. But today she couldn't find him, and aimlessly wandered around the Weeping Woods. She had made a den here, but she hadn't really explored it from end to end. Just vague glances, nothing as in depth as she wanted. It was a very calm place when it came down to it, but hardly a place to stay dry. Small streams trickled through the exposed roots, winding their way across the landscape. She danced around each trestle of water, her bells singing their usual song with each movement. Her scarf was wrapped loosely around her neck, and she was careful to move fast enough that the ends didn't drag in the streams. Coming to a pause, she peeked her head into a very thickly woven tangle of roots. There was just enough space that they let in a bit of sunlight, dappling the inside with dots of light. There was one hole in the roots, just big enough for her to squeeze her way into them. The water circled around the base of the willow, but the earth inside was raised from the lack of rain hitting it. She had picked the wrong den, obviously. Maybe this would be her new home, if she couldn't find another one. She was very picky, obviously. Removing her head from the root cave, she shook herself out and walked on, eyes slightly narrowed as she looked for any other possible dens.