Secret Woodlands a visit from beyond

Minka slunk along the borders, mischief bright in the burning red eyes as she went about, for these weren't her lands. She trailed over the old markers with a bounce in her step, if a wolf could skip or dance that would be what she was doing. Tail swished joyfully behind her, brushing against the dense foliage until it stunk of the Downs, her urine and scat left in a trail that led to the fiend. The Woodlands had dealt the first blow and now the tense aggression fed the being, the war caused the devil to swell with pleasure. Chuckling she leapt at a tree, clawing the bark until it was mangled and hung in shambles, branches strewn through the snow at its base.

It wasn't just the scent of one wolf left behind her, but of a whole pack, any Woodlands wolf who found the scene would be able to smell all of the Downs. In fact it was so strong it would be as if the army was still upon the borders, all around them, laying in the shadows and just out of sight. All around her Minka left signs of an ambush. Cackling she finished her loop of the  territory, glorified by the chaos she had made of the once orderly borders. Lifting her muzzle to the sky she called for the pack's residents, come and play her voice taunted.

At the sound of approaching paw steps Minka turned away from her work, disappearing into the shadows. She had completed her task and there was work to be done elsewhere.

It smelled like...shit. The stink was overwhelming, that much was certain, but for the life of him he couldn't deduce any logical reason pertaining to why a pack wolf would expend so much effort dirtying up their borders. Mirren stood in quiet thought and racked his brain, his golden eyes studying an unfamiliar paw print molded in what was now drying mud. His brows drew together, one raising with distaste as a fly buzzed past his ear to land on the filth of old urine, sticky on the surface of a dying plant; the plant obviously couldn't withstand the sheer volume of hatred and waste that had been delt to it. He'd been gone for the majority of the winter, and upon his return it was clear that everything had changed. Secret Woodlands was not what it had once been, and was now teetering on the edge of ruin, thanks to that geriatric bastard and his traitorous wench. It was a shame, really ─ he'd really liked Iopah. Upon crossing the scene before him, he'd immediately considered Koda as the perpetrator, but Mirren was sure the old man ─ as dull as he was ─ wasn't stupid enough to come within two days of his pack, not after what he'd done. Yes, he was surely far away from here. One of his cronies, then? Well...Mirren couldn't fathom that Koda had even a single follower. No one who had half a brain would pledge their allegiance to someone to whom allegiance meant nothing. That {which he held to be fact} coupled with the carnival of other and additional scents told only that this fucking mess had nothing to do with the Renier. But what other enemies to the pack existed? As far as he knew, there were none. And yet...It was obvious that this was a deliberate stab at them all, a stab at him, and it would be the last time. For somewhere among the abundance of disgust and kaleidoscope of scents, the sweet smell of blackberries hung in the air. A low howl rung through the Woodlands ─ a summons for @Nina, @Miccah, and @Kite.

(This post was last modified: May 01, 2015, 06:49 AM by Mirren.)