Quiet paws stalked the Vericona Plains, skirting the edges of a territory she'd been surprised - or perhaps not, if she thought about it - to find in the west rather than the north. Had Arian taken her advice, then, to find somewhere less inhospitable for her infants to grow in? Or had she hoped that by moving she would foil any attempts to raid them? It was foolish of her if that was true; the lands here supported a far greater bounty than the lands Arian had claimed in the north and were far more enticing now. She considered briefly the idea of seeking trade relations but was quick to reject it. It would be a waste of trade goods even if Arian were to have the fortitude to accept it; far easier to simply take what they wanted from a pack too weak and scattered to protest the loss.

Turning her attention from the border markers, she cast her eyes instead over the plains. She would feed before she returned to Yfir, but she wished to study these lands as well. They may be of strategic importance being so close to a potential raiding point. Moving into a lope she passed deeper into the plains, testing the footing beneath her paws and keeping her gaze sweeping around her for any potential ambush points or areas to retreat. There didn't seem to be much in the way of either, with such wide-open spaces as these. But hmm... perhaps the tall grass could be used to their advantage...

Surreal Adravendi

They were in need of a fresh kill. The deer she had smelled a few days back hadn’t left the area, and Surreal wondered if it had lost all hope. Being injured, she would have expected it to move as far away from a wolf population as possible. But as she followed the spore, she noticed that it seemed disoriented. Had its infected injury affected the mind, or was the beast merely daft? Either way, she wasn’t complaining. It was an easy meal, and she had energy to burn. She was about to up the ante when the wind tossed a fresh scent her way. Pack, Northern. Alpha. And Female. Her forward progress halted abruptly as her hackles lifted instinctively. She forced them to lower to her spine. She had no true right to drive an intruder from the land. Not yet. But if this was Yfir, coming to start trouble, she had to intercept it somehow, without stepping on toes and making her future pack an attractive target. She had heard that Yfir did trade agreements. Could she work that to her advantage in the future? The plains had herbs, bountiful prey life. Something the north had less of, though she’d heard that Caribou tasted pretty good. But would Yfir choose a trade deal, when it appeared that it would be easier to merely steal? Despite the worries of Sonticus, she was, like her mother, one who prefered peace to war, though she wasn’t the type to back down if she had to fight. So, she turned, slipping away from her deer tracking and into a wooded portion of the plains, gliding through the deer paths until she found a place where she could remain hidden but see the guest, as it were. Thus far, she saw only one wolf. The female she had scented. The Yfir was alone, slinking along out in the open area, a fair distance away. From her posture, she was looking about, taking notes. Mapping the area. A mental ‘ugh’ rippled through her mind. But she plastered a relaxed expression upon her face and padded out to greet the female. There was no doubt in her mind that this was the leader of Yfir. Not when the scent said, so clearly that she was an alpha. So, as Surreal drew close, she kept a respectful distance. There was no cower to her stride, no submission to her posture. The other’s bearing was one of a warrior on a scouting mission. “You’re quite far from home, Monarch of Yfir.” Blunt, no mincing around the bush. But her tone wasn’t rude, merely conversational. Her impression was that Yfir and Sonticus had been the only two northern packs before Arian had moved to the west. Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think

She continued her exploration in silence, seeking the water source she could scent. Much of the land was criss crossed with the scent trails of a family group, and though generally she would have avoided them completely today she simply continued on her way - neither going out of her way to intrude, nor deviating around them. So it was hardly a surprise when a wolf materialized. She stopped promptly, silver gaze fixing calmly on the bicolored eyes of her counterpart. She tilted her head in acknowledgement of the woman's correct assumption as to herpack. "I am no monarch," she declaimed sternly. "Yfir is no kingdom, to be bound by the petty foibles and beurocracies of such a one." She seated herself, sweeping her attention over to lands around them, automatically picking out landmarks as she searched. Alone. No signs of an ambush. She turned her attention back to the woman. "A leader, yes, I am that. I am Katja Finnvi of Yfir, and it is not my habit to remain hidden away in the north simply as I live there, and to know nothing of the lands around me. And you, stranger? You belong to no pack." There was no disgust or threat in her tone, just a simple intonation of observation, bland of any negative connotations.