OPEN Say it, don't spray it.

Taggard had gone off to enjoy some time alone and left Wallace to do the same. Of course, Wallace didn't feel that same desire for solitude, but he respected Tagg's need for it all the same. While still traveling in a generally southward direction, Wallace went exploring. The trees had become more and more dense as the miles ticked on. Soon enough, he couldn't even see the sky for the thick canopy overhead. It felt almost spooky for the young wolf. His home had been dominated by the open sky and grasslands. Despite his extensive travels, this sort of place felt very strange. The light was so dim it was almost like dusk and there was an air of the magical and mysterious about the place. The closeness of the trees was nearly enough to make him feel claustrophobic. 

This feeling was compounded by the fact that Wallace was on his own -- at least for the day. A shiver of excitement that bordered on fear ran the length of his spine as his imagination took him on a ride. His thick fur ruffled and his crest stood erect as he made his careful way through the dense woodland. Then, all of a sudden, there was a sound that stood out from the general commotion of birds and small critters going about their simple lives. Panicked. Fearful. It wasn't in any actual language, but the meaning was clear. "Help me!"  it said. So many stories of witches in the woods came back to him. Some poor creature was surely about to meet their end! 

"I'm coming!" he bellowed heroicly and bounded through the underbrush without a shred of dignity or grace. It wasn't likely that the creature could understand him, but he had to try anyway! "Hold on, I'm coming!" he shouted again. It didn't take him long to find the source of the cries and, without taking time to think, he dove down into the deep hole. The sides were too steep to have been made by nature. It had to have been some sort of trap, but Wallace did not consider that someone might not like him freeing their prey. The animal he found was quite strange -- unlike any that he'd seen before. It was almost like a cat -- all black with a flash of white. "Don't worry, I'm here to help you," is what he had intended to say, but the cat never gave him the chance. It turned its back to him quick as a flash and sprayed him right in the face. 

Wallace sputtered, coughed, and gagged. His wings flared and buffeted the air, only causing the stink to circulate more aggressively. He had to fight everything in himself not to just flee -- to run and run until the smell was far behind him -- but he had come here to rescue the beast, and that's what he was going to do, by the gods! Although it fought him all the while, Wallace managed to snag the stink-cat by the scruff of its neck and haul it up and out of the hole. Once they were both free, he spat it out and didn't stop to see in which thankless direction it ran. 

The poor wolf wiped his face with his paws and, when that failed to help, scrubbed it along the dirt and leaf-litter.

That didn't help either.

Reckitt

Eden, they called it, she doesn’t know why but she supposed it suited this realm all the same. Great trees grew here, in numbers beyond counting and springing to life from the earth in thick clusters- enough to blot out most of the sun. It wasn’t dark though, not really, dim perhaps you could say, if anything. Faint light behind a curtain or somewhere past a shroud of fog, but in Eden there was simply no fog at all, just treetops and leaves. So many leaves, an array of types all from silent saplings or gargantuan pillars of bark- these trees, they must have been here forever, a heady ancientness overtaking the air.

Ancientness, but also yelling, yes, someone was shouting in the distance.

For a few moments, she is still, listening with ears flicking and turning on top of her snowy head. Was someone in trouble, would she even be able to help? Worry set in, anxiety, Reckitt was no fighter, if it came to a scuffle she would surely be injured. Still, she makes movement, inching towards the sound, still unable to discern exactly what is taking place, but as she gets closer- more becomes clear.

Something about help, but that’s not all, the wretched stench of skunk perfumed the forest as she closed in. Skunks, they are highly unpleasant if threatened or frightened, she left them be whenever she saw one- whoever this was shouting, clearly had not seen the creature as something to avoid.

The skunk in question, scurried towards her, its black and white body sort of waddling as it went, Kitt side stepped it, giving it a wide berth as it chattered its frustration to deaf ears. She doesn’t speak skunk.

To her surprise, the recipient was still present, smelling quite potent and sending the scent whichever way as they beat their wings. “That isn’t going to help,” she laughed, unable to cover the amusement of the entire situation. Another winged wolf, she was always impressed at their great wings, each soft feather against their sides.

“You’re going to need a bath,” swiping her bad paw against her nose, a small and fleeting reprieve. “Maybe a few baths actually,” there is no ill intent in her approach, in fact she is still a ways off, neither of them knowing each other, it was only polite.

“I’m Reckitt, what’s your name?”

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