Fresh at home, Fiora was not privvy to be bounding too far from the borders. Magnolia Glen was every damn bit as pretty as she imagined it to be. The lush valley hummed with the voice of the creek as it trickled by, and she imagined herself to be some sort of great queen of ancient when she lay in the fallen pink petals beneath the shade of the trees. This land of Borlla's was prime real estate and she found herself consciously trying to appreciate it as much as she could, if that said anything of her.
As much as she loved it (and she did) Fiora found herself wondering if she had bit off a bit more than she could chew. The very mark of their borders was like a freaking wall, scent after scent, all of them different, layered together. There were many wolves who had found the Glen all too enticing just as she had. It was a classic case of knowing what you wanted and being too scared to go for it, except that Fiora had ended up somehow half way. She was part of the pack. She just had to go forward and meet the rest of her pack mates, since there were plenty, and being surrounded by pack mate friends was what she had wanted. Did want.
Instead she found herself walking the border that had intimidated her so, trying to keep one cold blue eye out for strangers who shouldn't be there while the majority of her mind concerned her with herself (how typical). Fiora was quick to realize border patrol wasn't really working with so much of her thought time spent on working through her own nerves. Being surrounded by that smell-wall didn't help. With a guilty grimace she pressed beyond the borders, knowing that each step she carried onward would require a bigger reason for its allowance, though strangely she found herself eager to see what else was out there. If anything came of this adventure she might even have something to report back and prove herself to be of some use.