CAW! CAW! CAW!

The obnoxious sound of the crow that hopped around just outside of her den could not be ignored. Much as Aithne tried (in vain) to shove her ears down closer to her skull and even throwing one leg up over her head in a distinctly uncomfortable maneuver, the crow was just not going away. What the fuck it was doing just outside being so bothersome she had no earthly idea but she decided, the moment her paw slammed back down to the ground, that she would end it's miserable life once and for all. Then it could caw it's way on up to Valhalla and bother the feasting vikings of old. Thus she thrusts her legs beneath her, large figure jolting up swiftly and head tucking down between her shoulders with clear aggression in her steps. Dark green eyes peer out of the hollow of her den, waiting in the darkness to spy the filthy creature as it hops about, pausing once in a while to caw some more.

Oh yes, it would make a nice meal. She would pluck it's feathers for her den, too, as a gift to Praetor when he returned. It was... odd, to say the least, to share a den with another wolf. She was still not as comfortable with it as she should be, but once she pressed into him at nights she would sigh in a manner that let them both know that even if her head was confused, her body was not.

She lunges from the den in a flurry of movement, all her muscles and strength aimed at knocking the bird over before it can get it's wings spread out, but it is a wily creature and begins to lift up even as her form rolls back, back paws settling down slowly upon the earth and claws gripping the hardened soil. She is on the verge of pushing up into a leap, teeth flashing, then the howl knocks her attention off her perfectly aimed move. And so the crow slips away, just barely, with it's life and her front legs press into the earth as her weight evens out. It is a beautiful cry, really, and she growls low in her throat at the timing of it before sighing and beginning a trot towards her borders. It looked as if Aithne would get no extra rest today. The crow lands on a dead limb that hangs over her den with an almost haughty fluff of it's wings, laughing at her with it's beady eyes.

She is nimble across the marsh, finding the pathways through the more solid of the territory, and even with her lack of grace she is almost silent for her body knows how to move here. She lifts her broad muzzle over the tall vegetation to spy the figure waiting at her border, an odd mix of colors, and unfamiliar to her. Within moments she materializes from the whispering wheat-like grass, at odds with the snow nestled between them atop the soil. It strikes her almost instantly that this female is young, much like Halcyon who resides in the swamps as well, and she lets her eyes trail down the girl before pausing in front of her with her tail curled above her back. "I believe you were seeking me out," her coarse voice answers with a small curve of her lips.

Six - Empress of Iromar - fated for Praetor

aithne