I spit heat, I melt your face off,

Orlaith slipped out of Vanderfell usually in the early morning or late night, when most wolves wouldn't be that active. Her search was for more fruit to harvest, though the craig held many, she couldn't continually always picking there - sooner or later it'd run out, and then she would have to go outside of the summit regardless. Might as well do it now then save all the fruit for winter. Her reasoning was not thinking of others and letting them have the fruit, but solely because she wanted to hoard.

Humming in the dead of night, the woman was on a hunt.

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She found that she didn't want to sleep at home anymore, protective as she was of the land. She had begun to question why it was that she defended it so fiercely, if her family would so easily shrug away the presence of another pack without informing her. Why she even tied herself so tightly to them. Blood? She had spilled so much of it, but for what?

Such thoughts plagued her most of all when she was near the sea, near home, so she wandered more and more. If asked she'd say to follow prey. It wwas the only answer she could rightly justify.

Unfamiliar lands bred anxiety, she found. She slept fitfully in the night, twitching despite herself in the ball of fur she formed. What sleep clung its tendrils to her brain were scared away by the low, familiar sounds of someone humming. Her head shot up, then out from under the bush she had claimed as her den to glare at the wolf in the gloom. “Could you shut up?” she hissed.
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Though of course.. Orlaith couldn't help but stuff her face just occasionally with the delicious fruit. They didn't fulfill her like meat does, but their taste was also the occasional love to be. Like a snack, and yet if she continued to feast surely the woman would be more fat then athleticism. Her face full or fruit like a stuffed chipmunk, she couldn't help but look toward the one who screamed at her so. For a second she was fully grown to attack and growl at the person, and yet, "Oh, it's you," she said, mouth full of dripping fruit juices and cheeks overflowing with fruits.

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Her brow furrowed at the woman, not recognizing her. It slowly clicked, and her confusion became bereavement. She huffed. She rolled her eyes. “Já, it is me. And it is you...” her frown deepened as she finally registered the juices flowing from the wolf's mouth. “Having a late night snack? Of berries?” She had had a couple in her own time, but couldn't reckon why someone would sneak out at night to eat them. Did they taste better?
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"Winter is coming," she commented, using her paw to brush away any of the leftover juices from her chin. The other smelled of wolves and so, and assumed she most likely found her family and so.. Otherwise the warrior would've been surprised if she could survive this long without. Orlaith admired though, diligence that came with the girl to continue with a fury despite such problems coming forth, and only wondered who was taking care of her.

"What brought you over here?" she inquired.

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Ynness scoffed. “Berries can't put much fat on your bones,” She'd no clue how omnivores and herbivores did it, eating naught but fruits and leaves all day. Even though her body could technically stomach it, she had no interest in foliage other than for healing. Even then, she was no volga.

So then came the question she'd been practicing for and dreading in her head. A little voice within her wanted to say the truth, but she didn't know this woman. Didn't even know her name. “Surveying the land east of home. I was trying to sleep until, now.”
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With a wave of her paw, "they're a snack that doesn't grow during." Did she look like she only ate berries? With a flex of her muscles, the woman was a heavy-set warrior that definitely was a meat-eater. She would not soley consume vegetation like some that claim to, and often or not, the day one would come, Orlaith would most likely mock them. Treat is all that would be, but meat was always the most desired food taste, and overall the easiest to get.

"Not smart to sleep alone with your condition, wilds ain't nice kid," she said with a joking laugh, but hinted she looked down upon the others idiocy.

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She huffed, eager to drop the topic entirely. She'd gotten her answer, anyway. The woman's flexing was a point of envy, sending a sudden chill of discomfort through her own shoulders. She'd looked away, a sneer covering her jealousy.

Her eyes turned back to the woman, cold and firey all at once. “What condition?” she said, her voice tense and shaky with barely held anger.
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Orlaith wasn't.. The best wolf when it came to delicate situations. She was perhaps a bit too blunt and uncaring, and often at times that came to bite her back as she filtered with nearly getting the displeasure from her Queen as well. Only situations after does the tension tend to be a realization, and yet.. She was too stubborn to take anything back, much less an apology. She looked at the other, a fiery warrior who was now upset about her words.

Time to bail.

"I have to go back to my pack, alright? If you want to join catch me at Vanderfell," a small advertisement of course, as even if the other lost a leg.. She proved in but confidence and bravery. With so words doing, she fled — with berries hanging from her jaw and aggressively chewing them. Occasional blue droplets falling from her path.

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