Whisper Marsh give you what you like

April 13th; Early morning; Sunrise; Partly Cloudy; 39° F/4° C

Aside from worrying about Elettra and her well-being since Skana's death, Angier had other things to worry about - how Asriel Sköll, and Morganna were coping, how Guiness was doing in regards to keeping up his post at the borders, and how the rest of the pack was faring. The herds would be returning soon, the Lyall knew, but for the time being, he had enough wit to realize that the ice along the rivers (especially along the Heartleaf Creek and the edges of the Marsh) were melting; and, this meant one thing: fish. Or, more specifically, catfish. Just the thought of having a decent 3-4 lb. fish in his jowls made his stomach rumble and it was with determination and utmost care that he slowly and quietly left the common area of the den. After carefully stepping over Sköll to place a kiss to Elettra's temple, he "tiptoed" outside and stretched.

Upon straightening himself and taking note that the sun had a couple hours yet until it rose, Angier began to head towards the west with the lightening sky at his back. He picked his way through the melting snow, finally glad that he no longer had to use the trench-like highway he, Guiness, and Elettra had to forge in order for the cubs and the more medium-sized members to navigate through the Willows. Eventually he came to the edge of the Willows and he had to pause at the tree line while he scoped out the open landscape of Whisper Marsh with his ears held forward and his pale eyes wide open while he analyzed the scents that stuck out to him on first impression. If there had been anything peculiar, it was the scent of the returning songbirds - the sweet smell of warblers and finches, robins and magpies. The stench that came with the crows and ravens were always present, as much as the Leader was aware, and to scent them in the frigid morning air, somewhere in the area before him was a good sign. Perhaps it meant that some visiting hunter or scavenger had just recently frequented the area... also meaning that the fish that inhabited the elbow-deep waters were active.

Perfect. He advanced forward at a leisurely pace, stepping through the dead reeds and paper-like long grass until his paws found cracked ice and the freezing water just beyond it. Once in the water, he began to slowly wade about with his eyes keen on anything that moved in the wake of his step that was not the mud stirred up under his feet...

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In the short time since she had first appeared in the Lore, the Tiaroth female had kept to a relatively small patch. Choosing to stay close to the lagoon and the neighboring marsh, she felt most secure. These areas were but only congregational areas where wolves could come and go as they pleased. Even though she had no idea what kind of strangers, or how many she'd run into while out here, it was far less risky than lingering on the outskirts of a packs territory. Ryka was not yet ready to make the commitment of joining a group once again...however desperate her heart may be. She was still healing, taking time to allow old wounds of the past sew closed.

For now, her temporary haunt was the marsh, where herbs and shelter were plentiful. With the snow melting at a steady rate, the ground was made mushy and wet, making for slippery footing. Tucked away inland, away from the murky water, amongst the reeds, she had found herself a comfortable little spot to rest. She considered it equivalent to a den, however poor an excuse for one it may be. To this spot, she and Lugh would return night after night, to recoup after a day of exploring. Today though, this was not where the brown and gray she wolf was found. She had risen early, the hunger pangs in her belly forcing her away to search for a meal. Just a week ago, signs had looked promising, when by chance, she and Lugh had scented deer nearby. But their efforts to track down the elusive herd had proved in vain. Even if they had found the animals, it was unlikely that they could catch one. She was a slightly underweight medium sized wolf, and Lugh was even smaller still. They'd have to find alternative options to snack on.

With the sun now just beginning to peak over the horizon, bathing the land in a soft golden light, her lone silhouette weaved silently through the reeds. Birds were singing, trees were budding and the air was fresh. All signs that Spring was almost here. Emerging silently from the thick cover, the familiar trickle of water beckoned her forward. She knew this stream quite well, for having been around such a short time. Knowing that it would be filled with active catfish, she was more than willing to get a little wet. Her hopes were momentarily stalled though, as she crept closer, spotting an unfamiliar male elbow deep in the water. Blinking softly, she paused, licking her lips nervously. He was large...powerful and in reasonably decent shape. Had he claimed this fishing spot as his own? Would he share? Ears flicking back, Ryka kept her distance, held her breath and waited to see if she'd be spotted.

Had Angier been like his brothers, his patience might have already worn thin at this point. Every couple of steps he had had to stop and hastily scan the shallows before him, to make quick work of discerning whether or not the movements in the water were caused by him or his prey. Much like a cat entertained by the flickering red light of a laser pen, he kept his head bowed downward with his ears fully forward and likened to misshapen satellite dishes. Any sort of kerplunking sound would have been a godsend by now; he was starting to think that he might have missed the catfishes' "feeding time" just before dawn.

Something in the air felt as though it has shifted but the Lyall was too caught up in his search for deep hidey-holes in the silt and in-between the dried out reeds to look up just yet. He righted his skull as a loud KER-PLOP! snagged his attention. He would have gone after it, but he was much too distracted by the idea of having a spectator nearby. After shaking out the fur at his neck and throat, his pale gold eyes eventually came to rest on the figure of a mottled woman - or, rather young lady- on the shore.

For her to be standing so quietly and so patiently there must have meant that she rather interested in what he was doing; all her timidity or shyness seemed to be written all over her face. His tail, which he had managed to keep well above the water's glassy surface, gave a slight wave. "'Ellowww," he called out to her in his loudest whisper. "Can I help you?"

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