Octavia has decided that she doesn’t want to be in the packlands anymore. She needs to be out of Glorall, away from her fucking brothers. She hates the fact that they’re around so much, that they’re always around, that they stifle her very existence with the fact that they exist. She wasn’t going to stay there if they were going to be there. She’d show them. She’d show them so well, and they’d beg her to come back. They would beg her, and she would not fucking do it. Wouldn’t dare. Fucking assholes. She was upset, and that was… and that was enough. Quivering, shaking with the fact that even though she’d returned they weren’t treating her as they should have.

Women were supposed to teach. Women were supposed to… were supposed to do woman-y things. There hadn’t been a single litter of pups in Glorall this season, and Octavia was smugly pleased with that. Smug, smug as ever as she cut away from the place that had born her personally. That felt good. Her tail swished softly behind her body, stalking through the tall grasses. The woodland was lush and green, and she was… she was here to exist within it. Through the trees, darting with the sort of speed and grace that was something that couldn’t be matched.

No one could match Octavia step for step. She had broken a lot of hearts in her days out and about, and she was going to allow that to come into play in the most beautiful way possible. There was someone else out here. She wasn’t the only one, especially as the bloody metallic scent of fresh kill hits her in the face. Yes, there’s someone here, and there’s someone here who’s enjoying his dinner. Octavia doesn’t care. She just keeps running, head tossing, claws digging into the soft ground.

There was someone out here when she just wanted to be alone to sulk in peace.