She settles comfortably beside the pool, haunches meeting the loamy soil as she dips her head to drink of the fresh water. Mercury stands sentinel at her side, pressing bristly pelt of obsidian against her foreleg, beady gaze sweeping about. With little regard or care she rises and stretches leisurely, gazing attentively about. A lazy smirk smolders on her features as she begins to trail her way down the hill, senses firmly attuned to her surroundings. It'd been quiet on this end of the eastern territories. Not that she'd expected backlash or punishment for seizing Sawtooth--the incompetent display at the challenge was enough to convince her of that. But in her stroll she'd encountered that line of scent and figured she'd test her boundaries a tad. And the falls were nice to see. The water is colder than she's used to and it refreshes her, invigorates her, drives any worry that would touch a more sane individual from her system. She'd frequented them often as a kid, just like almost every other land here. With enough gall, she could even claim that the dirty foreigners that had all invaded here had little claim over any of the lands. They'd all swept over it like a disease but at least they were less... pitiful back then. Lip curls. What a weak breed the wolves here have become. She rises and paws begin to take her uphill, not bothering with being stealthy as she and her companion make their way along the water. ""

 

Thank goodness for spring. The air was easier to breath, the frosty-chill no longer present and taxing. The golden youth padded along, standing as he would as an adult, a true adult, come next season.  He did not regret the decisions he has made, and though his parents had fallen wayward again, as well as Cerise this time, Félicien felt confident in their return. He on the other hand, well, he was focusing on building his muscles, his strength. Even if he still had more to learn, and perhaps painfully so in his own mind, Féli felt confident of the path he had chosen to take; the path of a warrior. It seemed kind of... fitting. Sorrel was a healer, always had taken that route. He wasn't as outgoing as Félicien was, but the slightly larger male respected his twin's decision for the role he wanted to take. There was nothing wrong with being different. It was the differences of the members of a pack that made it strong, made it function. Without fighters, healers, and hunters alike there would be some sort of complication. Of course, even with them, a pack could still experience... other trouble. Félicien would lift his head, his nose twitching. There was a scent, foreign, yet... it held the scent of Sawtooth territory. Something about it was off... so off. Féli would look around, ears giving a twitch. He was, as far as he knew, the only one this close to the border right now. Deciding to investigate he would set out at a trot. ...and the woman he saw by the water was not of his kin. ...she seemed too... comfortable here as well. Félicien would approach her directly, ears flicked back some. Mis-matched gaze also took in her companion; what appeared to be a nasty little beast. He would restrain a growl. It would not due well to jump to conclusions. "Excuse me... but is there something I can help you with?" All the same the youth's guard was up. There was something wrong here... and the male would figure out what it was. "Speech"

It takes a while. For Jupiter's impatient mind, it feels as if she waits days for someone to finally show up. Ear flicks as a man appears--a Destruction, she decides, looking at his markings and the coloring of his pelt--and instantly a neutral guise falls across every facet of her body language. Mercury bristles at his appearance, pressing more firmly against the side of her leg. She blinks as he speaks--but within, she sneers. It's amazing, really, how that's all he can say when she's perched nearly in the heart of the territory. "Oh?" she murmurs, brow furrowing with well-feinted, utterly convincing confusion. She hadn't spent the first three years of life under a different outward personality--one infinitely whimsical, bubbly, and easily-puzzled--for nothing, afterall. If there is one thing she had gained from the humorously, self-mocked personality she'd privately dubbed 'Iterjup,' it's certainly the ability to act. "I didn't realize people lived here. It's... quiet." A jab lies in the irony here. That is, it is to one who knows her but to one who doesn't have a clue as to who she is, it comes across as an honest question. She glances about. "Who lives here? They might need some help keeping up with scent markers... they must be nonexistent in some places." Genuine concern touches her tone, lips contorting in a troubled frown. ""