Night had fallen upon the land, bringing with it a cool breeze that rustled the long tendrils of the willow trees. It was noisy to her sensitive ears, the sound of the malleable branches brushing along the forest floor. Aside from this and the sporadic coo of a nearby owl, it would seem as if Miskwaa was the only creature awake in this part of her new home. Some may have found the relative silence to be unsettling, unnerving... Miskwaa, weary and worn, found great comfort in the peace that came with the dim light of the full moon.

Her travels had brought her to this place, investigating the strong aroma that lingered amid the drooping leaves. Ziigwan's arrival to the flower-ridden meadow she had taken to sleeping in had rekindled the need for a pack. Her desire for companionship was fulfilled with her uncle's presence, but there remained the glaring reality that they needed others. Still, the idea of relying on strangers was unsettling to her, a woman who trusted so few... But her needs were not the only ones to take into consideration, and here she was, sniffing thoughtfully as she drew ever-nearer to the pack's apparent boundaries. She seemed keen on keeping a close distance, peering thoughtfully into the shadows with the anxious feeling that comes when one does not know precisely what one wants.

She would not call to them, Miskwaa decided after some minutes trotting parallel to the pack's boundaries: this was not a decision for her to make. Content with the small bit of information she had gleaned in this trip (that there lived a pack amid the sweeping arms of the willow trees), the rusty creature turned tail, beginning her trek back to the flowered glen she had taken as her temporary home. Her movements were fast, paws hitting the ground with little care for what lay before her. Thoughtlessly she crashed through the land, ignorant of the small creature that lay ahead.

At her approach, the quilled animal gave a squeal and darted to her left in an attempt to dodge Miskwaa's thundering advance, shooting out long quills as it did so. “Shit!” she exclaimed in pained surprise as the quills lodged themselves in the left half of her face: one in her tongue, a couple in her upper lip, one in her left paw, and several in her already-maimed left ear. The wolf came to a skidding stop and with a whine lowered her body to the forest floor, wide eyes surveying the quill stuck in her paw. It seemed the only one Miskwaa was capable of removing, except the pain that consumed her muzzle prevented her from taking such action. Cursing herself for her carelessness, Miskwaa let out a sharp yelp, hopeful that someone would hear it — if not Ziigwan, then perhaps a kind loner or member of the pack she had just been investigating.

At least the moon was the same, Ziigwan has mused on his first night in this land. It was the little things that was allowing him to come to terms with the situation, and the daily ritual of survival - tainted with stress as it was, due to the lack of a family's support - was one of those. Scouting became ever important, and on this night they had set out to learn more of their neighbours, potential enemies and allies alike.

There was a strange thrill to be found in all this, he had to admit.

Tonight's venture had taken them into the airy forest of willows, a less claustrophobic forest than the others he had travelled through so far, and yet he found himself in regular physical contact with the trees as he walked through their drooping leaves. Miskwaa was somewhere ahead, he knew, close enough to call if something happened. He could smell wolves on the ground and just knew that there had to be a permanent home somewhere nearby, though he hadn't found the borders yet.

The initial cry was lost to the wind, but her yelp carried better, and his priorities shifted instantly, afraid that she had gotten tangled with a packwolf. That was probably one of the worst things which could happen. "Miskwaa?" he called, seconds before catching her scent and then crashing on the scene - but there were no other wolves, only Miskwaa, and why was she -

"Shit!" He had almost stepped on the thing, and got some quills in his arm for the trouble. The porcupine jumped away and started to climb one of the nearest trees in a bid to escape, though Ziigwan had no intention of hunting it and neither, from the looks of things, did Miskwaa. Limping towards her, pulling the quills from his flesh with his teeth, it was quickly obvious that she had gotten a worse end of the foul creature than he had. "Are you okay?" he asked, but he couldn't help but smile ruefully at the situation. As much as she probably would have preferred not to have a face full of porcupine, it was better than the alternatives which had raced through his mind. "Do you want me to get those?"

Thank the gods she was not alone long.

By the time her uncle had father, the girl's situation had not improved in the slightest. His arrival, however, seemed to minutely lessen the anxiety she felt; why, at the sight of him, her tail gave a single, solid wag of relief! She might have greeted him, told him how thankful he was for arriving so promptly — why, for arriving at all! For a moment, she stared at him with wide eyes, the eyes of a child staring up at their protector. For all of Miskwaa's independence, she was still young yet and inexperienced when it came to many things. If he had never followed her to this land... How long would she have stayed here? What sort of foul creature would have found her in such a piteous state?

The prideful beast shuddered at the thought and then gave a light nod of affirmation.

As gentle as Ziigwan as in the removal of the quills, each tug on his end was met with a wince and a muffled groan on hers. He worked slowly, beginning first with the most obvious injuries before they decided together to tackle the more difficult ones in her mouth. In truth, all of the other quills had been painless compared to the removal of these last three, which seemed contain to remain latch into the sensitive skin of her muzzle. All the same, it was not until the final quill that Miskwaa reacted violently, jaws snapping shut as she pulled back. The action succeeded in their goal of pulling the final barb from her tongue, but the manner in which she regarded him — eyes wide, ears pulled back, jaws parted with bloody tongue lolling out the side — expressed concern about her kneejerk reaction. Apologetic, she said quickly (ignoring both the pain and the embarrassment that now came with speaking), “Thorry!” A quivering, uncertain pause. “Did Ah hurt yooh?” 

The habit of being the protective uncle temporarily overrode their new dynamic, and he did not judge her moment of weakness. Ziigwan instead set about the task of carefully plucking the short quills from her face with his smallteeth, an imprecise action that he carried out as delicately as possible. He crooned softly to her whenever she reacted with pain, though it was not until the very last quills did she react much. He had not expected the jerky response and her teeth grazed his chin as she snapped and pulled back, but he lied and said "No,", spitting the last quill so he could draw his tongue over the bridge of her nose to reassure her and wipe away the spots of blood.

The forest was a peaceful place again, his heartbeat having settled back into a regular rhythm after the panic of hearing her initial distress. Ziigwan glanced up at where the porcupine had fled into the tree and it was still there, watching them with tiny unreadable black eyes. Ziigwan snorted at it, predictably to no effect. It would probably wait until they left, neither side particularly wishing for another altercation. That was just fine. But how had this happened in the first place? Had she been careless? The reality of their current situation was slowly coming back to him, but he did not have the heart to admonish her for a moment of weakness, despite the fact that she was supposed to be the capable one in this situation. Perhaps, if her pride was not too wounded, he would make a small jest about that. Time to test the waters with something else first. "Were you trying to eat it? Because in my experience they don't really like that."

His denial was probably a lie and Miskwaa stared at him with a pointed sense of guilt. Regardless, she did not call him out on it or press the matter further, content to revel in the warmth that came with companionship. It was small gestures such as this that reminded Miskwaa that she was not quite so old and mature as she liked to think herself to be. Right before her there was someone who perhaps occasionally saw her as the toddling, chubby pup that was long gone... It was a peculiar dynamic to find herself falling back into. And while Miskwaa enjoyed the weight lifting from her shoulders in such instances, she decided that she would keep such interactions to a minimum — he deserved to be the one that was cared for now.

Her gaze followed his skyward, peering in the darkness at the quilled beast. It wasn't big and its face was harmless, but the sight of the creature caused her guard hairs to rise. At her uncle's inquiry, Miskwaa gave and indignant huff, raising her chin and retorting, “No, I ran into it.” The words remained slightly unclear, lacking their usual precise, enunciated quality. Her tongue heavy and swollen, bleeding just slightly — though not enough to be a serious issue. Turning her golden stare to her uncle now, Miskwaa asked accusingly, “You think I'm that dumb?” Her brows knitted together, evidently dissatisfied with the accusation in his words, but she did not press the issue further for the time being.

Hunting a porcupine in strange lands, on her own, would certainly have been questionable behaviour, and he had not truly believed that's what she was doing. Still, her reaction made him hum quietly in amusement, the situation so easily mirroring any of the trouble she had gotten into as a youngster. He found himself content to play the consoling, if slightly antagonistic, uncle once again, a treat which he would likely never get with anyone else. Maybe when they found a pack to settle in, and she claimed a rank higher than his, he would act with the proper deference - but for now, he would enjoy their relationship as equals, something they had never really been. Treating Miskwaa as Lowest, and all that came with it, had never felt right, much like treating her sister as leader never had. Despite everything else being wrong and different, this felt appropriate, felt proper.

"Of course not," he crooned, bopping her nose with his as he used to when she was a pup. He laughed then, to break the jest, for he didn't want to bruise her pride too thoroughly; he needed her strong and confident, though, perhaps, being able to mock herself would do her good.

Looking up at the stranded, blank-expressioned porcupine, Ziigwan considered it thoughtfully for a moment. "Do you think it's their border defense?" he mused, aware that they were quite close to a pack's well-marked territory. "It's pretty effective. I don't want to know what they've got waiting if you actually trespass."

Ziigwan was quick to comfort her and quiet the seething sense of indignation that had begun to bubble in her chest, his touch light and whimsical. Her ears flicked backwards at the statement, the laughter gentle; it was not mocking her and served as a reminder that she should perhaps not take herself quite so seriously. It was not always necessary, she reminded herself with a bemused chuff; she did not always have to be protector and provider. Slowly, her shoulders fell as calm washed over her — all his doing, caused by some peculiar quality her uncle had. Or was it knowledge of her own inner workings that granted him such power?

Of all her relatives, it was her uncle whom she had always liked best. If given the choice, she would have been stranded with none other.

“Perhaps,” Miskwaa responded with an air of thoughtfulness, golden eyes returning to the arboreal creature. It was an unassuming beast, not so obvious in its dangers as a bear or a mountain lion... Were taming the beasts possible, Miskwaa may have tried to wield them for her own benefit! The thought was comical and she snorted at her own humor, looking back to Ziigwan with a (slightly pained) grin. “Probably lions, bears... I don't know if I want to be their ally or stay far, far away.” For reasons that had everything to do with her rather minor, and yet entirely unexpected, injuries. Pondering for another moment, she offered offhandedly, “I think skunks would make good border patrol.” Lighthearted jest — a refreshing, uncommon change from the hardship she had grown all too accustomed to.

Miskwaa would not admit it, but she liked the stupid nature of the conversation and the light feeling in her heart that it brought on.

And so they both pondered the porcupine, sat out here in the depths of nowhere, far from home and possibly too close to somebody else's. Once it was all boiled down, Ziigwan was merely content to know that Miskwaa was safe, and the rest didn't matter. She joined in the joke, much to his delight, though her theoretical musings were nothing but terrifying possibilities. Could he imagine a land so different, that such natural enemies could be made into tools, or allies! Though of course they were dabbling in the insane, it held a tiny pinch of truth for their current reality. Miskwaa may have seen her uncle as warm and jovial, but he had been as harsh on their family's borders as any of them. Suddenly, standing on the other side of somebody's territory was making him rethink a lot of his past actions.

There were more important things to dwell on right now - like skunk border patrol. The idea sunk in for a second, and then he laughed out loud, uncontrolled for a moment. "Could you imagine?!" he cried, before lowering his voice back to normal levels. He should at least pretend to be thinking about stealth. "That's genius. You're onto something - when we approach a pack, boy do we have an idea to offer. They won't be able to turn us away, they'll be in awe. The Porcupine Brigade will be old news."

"Though... maybe not. I mean, it'd sure keep everyone out, but I think they'd be getting the better deal. Hmm." Perhaps the golden plan wasn't so flawless after all.

And suddenly, they were great entrepreneurs! The absurdity of it all left her grinning, yellow teeth flecked with blood from her injuries. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it: their enemies, pelted with the stinky aroma of sentinel skunks! Perhaps not quite so dangerous as the porcupine, but some might consider the lingering stench more irritating than the minor injuries brought on by a spray of quills. The utter perfection that was her goofy plan soon faded with Ziigwan's critique, at which the smile faded from her features. The flaws evident in her master plan, it seemed only natural to come up with a better alternative... And yet nothing really came to mind, as hard as Miskwaa tried, flipping through mental images of small, unassuming creatures that would signal her pack — if, of course, she ever lead one.

Perhaps skunks were the best option, if it meant keeping the strange and unfamiliar far, far away.

“I think I'll take my chances with the skunks.” Matter-of-fact and marked by light, short laughter, Miskwaa peered at him with amusement on her features. Her gaze was questioning, challenging as she peered at him in the darkness, brows raised in curiosity. “What would you have watching your borders, uncle? It can't be something big and frightening.” He had years of experience, which would perhaps result in creativity that Miskwaa quite clearly lacked. Due to the shortcomings of her own imagination, she seemed rather interested in his answer, ears pulled forward and the right corner of her mouth tugged back in a lazy, lopsided grin.

The folly continued, Ziigwan chuckling at her blood-spotted smiles, glad that he could still divert her so effectively. He could see it in her face, watch as she absorbed herself in the idea, and it was difficult not to see the young pup once again. This Miskwaa was usually so hard, so opinionated, so headstrong, that their jest was doing more than distracting from the porcupine situation, it was distracting Miskwaa from her own seriousness. Though a strong, stoic wolf often made the better leader, Ziigwan was sure he would have regretted his decision - at least a little - if she had not retained this part of her. The other Miskwaa was the one he respected; this was the one he loved.

"What would you have watching your borders, uncle?"

Before she added the restrictions, his first instinct had been to think of the biggest, meanest creature he knew, but that was clearly against the rules and entirely lacking imagination. So he paused to consider the meaty question, brows knitting together as he struggled to think of something better than a chain of grizzlies. But then it occurred to him, all at once, and his expression loosened in surprise - only to harden again, just slightly.

"Crows," he said, decisive, meeting her gaze, trying to pretend that the tone in his voice hadn't subtly changed. "Black feathers, in all the trees, always watching. Especially if they cried out on intrusions." He licked his lips, flicked an ear, and waited a second too long.

"I don't know if she ever told any of you, but your aunt was terrified of crows."