Territory description: On the north-western edges of the lagoon where trees from the cedarwood begin to encroach on it’s banks, a labyrinthine series of dips and hollows snakes between the trees. Moss covered rocks and a dense canopy overhead give the place an almost ethereal atmosphere, all paths seemingly leading to one central granite rock, an upright plinth spared a mossy covering for the clear ground that surrounds it, allowing sunlight to flood the clearing.
Morganna wasn't much of one for stuffy meetings and gatherings, and their minds had already been made, hadn't they? She was sprawled out in the snow-covered clearing around the central stone, eyes narrowing as she considered it's presence and all that it might imply. She had never really been a superstitious wolf, but the stories the travellers had told had been fantastical and whimsical and she had found herself being swept away in what ifs. What if this really was a pookastone? And the hare caught halfway between a winter and summer coat was actually a shapeshifter?
There wasn't anyone around to hear her chuckle, well not that she could spot between the stony dips and walls that all seemed to spiral outwards from here. They'd spent enough time waiting. She tipped her head back to howl, ears turning to catch her packmates calls with a satisfied smirk. If anyone had decided they didn't like it here, now was their last chance to leave. They were claiming this slice of the Lore as their own.