"Did you really have to come this far out?" the words were snapped by an irritable young female wolf. Her pelt was dyed a soft blue, though it did nothing to dampen the intensity of her stare. Red eyes landed on a wolf even younger than she but considered to be her 'aunt'. The family had been particularly... proactive when it came to ensuring the longevity of the bloodline, and the matriarch and patriarch still seemed to be popping out litters left and right. Harpy would have been happy to disassociate herself from them, but they were not the sort of family to let one of their own slip out of their grasp.
"Yes, the pack lands have been nearly picked clean of what I need." Broomsedge insisted as she subconsciously adjusted her veil. Like her own mother, her veil with the skull of another wolf, though Broomsedge had yet to tell anyone how she had acquired such a treasure. It was painted an almost electric blue, and helped to keep her identity concealed from the spirits that inhabited the swamp. She was a religious wolf, and she would not take the same foolish chance that others made when entering the depths of the swamp. Besides, the last time she had wandered the swamp lands alone and without a veil she had come home carrying pups.
That had been a nightmare to explain to her family. Yet, they had taken the pregnancy in stride and had helped her raise her sons. Now that they were young adults themselves, Broomsedge was keen to avoid making the same mistakes in her past.
"So, what is it that you're looking for exactly?" Harpy drawled with all the exaggeration of an extremely bored wolf.
"A herb, what your uncle is named after, actually. Marshmallow - it'll have a pink hibiscus flower," Broomsedge recited almost clinically. An aspiring herbalist, Broomsedge hoped to be as skilled with plants as her father. Though she was only just beginning to learn how to heal the body, she showed some promise in the field.
"You mean like this one?" Harpy gestured with an aloof air to a small plant. When she turned to look at Broomsedge, a smug smile formed over her maw. A smug sort of self-satisfaction pooled in the pit of her stomach. She did not need Broomsedge to confess that Harpy had found the plant already, it was easily read upon the startled expression on Broomsedge's face.
An embarrassed flush heated Broomsedge's cheek and the wolf coughed dismissively, "Well, one plant won't be enough for my purposes..."
"Yeah, sure, but there's like ten here. That'll be enough, right?" Harpy gestured with an ever-growing confidence. The spirits had certainly shown them their favor by leading them to a small patch of the herb. Harpy was silently grateful, because the less time she spent around her insufferable family, the better. They were too loving, too soft. She was nothing like them, and did not even bother to hide the fact that she would rather do anything else than be around them. Duty had been the only reason she assisted Broomsedge.
"...Yes, that'll do," Broomsedge sighed dejectedly. "Let's pick them and go home."
"Good."
(Word Count: 534)
