The trees and the sloping banks of the brook were covered in mosses, in some places almost looking like the two were one. On one hand Fiora was nervous of every step she took, not sure what was laying beneath the dull green fuzz, but on the other it looked like something straight out of the stories she'd heard when she was younger. Ivy growing around the trunks, magic grass carpeting everything you saw. These were things of wonder and, though she was hardly a pup any more, she still recalled the details of fairy tales quite vividly.

The recent lack of rainfall had receded the waters to some extent - she could see on the roots of trees that grew alongside the stream where the water level usually was, and made certain not go step in that deceptive muck. Her paws were dirty enough as it was. Fiora had made the executive decision not to move too close to the water - even though it was pretty the way the green of the surrounding forest reflected on the surface, the lack of definitive banks on either side made her particularly distrusting of the surface on which she deigned to walk.

Up here on the rise she was safe - well, so she thought. Her paw had barely made an indent in the ground when she knew she'd made a bad call. Her leathery pad sunk right through the moss-covered surface. Taken off-guard by the mud (which she had sworn looked solid) she was helpless as the gunk dragged her forward. Before she knew it she was slipping right down the brookside, all kinds of grossness flying into her face as she plummeted. Fiora came to a halt just moments before being launched into the murky waters by means of an exposed root catching her by her back paw, effectively stopping her descent but also throwing her chest-first into the muddy bank.

So much for the fairy tale. Thoroughly disillusioned now she took a moment to slowly open her eyes, taking care to see that any of the dirt on her face wouldn't get in her eyes. Once Fiora was certain her gaze turned vicious, pale and full of white-hot rage. Unceremoniously she wrenched her legs from the muck and stood as best as she could on the unstable surface, trembling with a maidenly outrage. In disbelief she remained motionless, underside dripping with mud, and shrieked her displeasure for all to hear. "Eeeewwwwuuuhhh!"

It was not the crack of a branch that alerted her to the stranger's presence, nor the scent of an approach either (it was hard to smell when her nose had basically just been submerged in stinky mud). Rather she just saw him appear out of no where, a shadow looming forward from within the mossy depths of this curious forest. Already in a vulnerable state Fiora couldn't help but react unfavorably, her ruddy muzzle wrinkling as her lips curled to bare her teeth at the shadow-wolf, black-tipped hackles raising. She squared her shoulders and drew in her muddied neck, fearing some kind of sneak attack.

But he just stood there, slack-jawed and with a twinkle in his orange eyes that suggested he didn't find the situation anywhere near as devastating as she did. Realizing this she suddenly found him a lot less intimidating, although the aggression of her stance was barely minimized. Words or no words it seemed this poor stranger would not be able to save his ears today. "Some prince charming you are," she hissed, a shrillness to her voice borne of embarrassment. Fiora wanted to hide her face - why did it feel so hot? - but she couldn't find it in her to move, stuck still and staring daggers with her frosted glare at the dark-furred male who had happened on her mishap.

She had some more yelling to do at him but words were failing her as she tried to regrasp her composure. Her jaws shut tight with a resounding click, pressing rows of teeth against each other while desperately racking her brain for a way to save face. Her hackles had slowly fallen, though her ruff remained tufty and she still teemed with an anxious embarrassment. Cold blue eyes flickered between his face and the white spot on his chest. Fiora wanted to liken the situation to a damsel in distress, but she mostly just felt like a blatant idiot and not some princess in a castle. "Well?" she mumbled, letting her gaze fall from under her furrowed brow permanently on his own. Aren't you gonna do something about it?

sorry this sucks so bad D:

To her surprise he didn't have a bite of his own to fire back. In fact, he'd the decency to apologize and it even looked like he meant it, too. Despite this her pride still had some ways to go before the swelling broke and she surveyed him with her lips pursed tightly, a vague but definitely cross look still teaming in her gaze. Fiora watched his movements, trying to discern if he was being sarcastic with her or not. He didn't sound very rude, though the best of 'em could easily mimic this, but at his ever so winsome wink the ruddy yearling decided to trust him.

Fiora nearly gasped when he voluntarily brought himself down the brookside to join her, horrified and jealous both of the ease with which he traversed through the muck. Gross, gross, gross, she kept thinking, at least until he slipped her one short phrase that shattered what remained of her porcupine puffery. Pretty face. Suddenly her cold blue eyes were fixed with rosy lenses. A chorus of angels rang in her ears as the corners of her lips slowly picked up and widened into a grin - not one of satisfaction, like she'd gotten what she wanted out of him, but one of genuine flattery.

Rather than wait along for another prince, as he'd warned, she simply followed his command and shifted her weight toward the tall, dark and handsome stranger at her side. "Okay," she purred, obviously quite pleased with the turn out. "But you gotta hurr-reee." There was no truth behind this statement; he could really take his time if he liked. But Fiora was beginning to feel all tingly at such a proximity, and the giggle-laced words seemed to leap out of her throat before she could stop them. They felt quite appropriate, at least, on her end.

She offered him a flimsy smile as he commented on her situation, waning thin into a mere grimace at the sound the mud made when he pulled his leg free. Gross. It was bad enough that it smelled like a swamp monster in here, and that it looked about as appealing as a rotten moose carcass, but the fact that it had to make a sharp, reluctant sound too had her at her wits end. She was lucky someone with a little charm had found her, else she would've gone entirely mad by now. Still floating on a cloud from his earlier compliment the yearling attempted to be as compliant as possible.

Having, quite frankly, a deep lack of common sense the ruddy girl looked blanky as he gave her instructions, gritting her teeth as frustration grew with every useless tug of her lanky limbs. Why couldn't she just be magically airlifted out of there by the grace of some superior being? Though she had the makings for an impressive stature she was hardly more than too-tall legs and awkwardly big paws until she grew in to it and - as the record was clearly showing - she hadn't done much training in terms of strength. With a princess-style huff she muttered, "Hold it against you? I'll lick your toes clean if you get me out of this shit."

Ignoring to the best of her ability the gross squelch as the mud resisted her she leaned her body forward, wriggling a graceless half-step forward to basically smack her mud-coated chest into the dark-furred wolf. Oops. Maybe with their combined force of will it would be easier to dislodge their legs and so she gave him a whimsical, half-apologetic grin and tugged toward the shore. Her efforts were pathetic - but not fruitless. On the third try she wrenched her foreleg free with a giddy yelp. Stretching forward she found placement for the offended paw on slightly more stable ground. It gave, but not without swallowing her paw like the rest of it had. With a slight increase in company morale, she tried again.