The spotted dove moved along the river, blindly, not knowing that she was being followed. For the most part, she was concerned with the problem on her mind: how did she present a whole engagement to their pack? Would her sisters fully approve of her fiancé? Of course, Nóttin was one of the main heads of the pack, but... She valued the opinions of her sisters a whole lot and wanted this to be a peaceful and cheerful event in the midst of such uncertainty.

Fall was starting to loosen the trees of their leaves, shedding them into the river, in which they easily littered and stopped up small pools of water, where fish gathered awaiting swarming bugs to land. The cycle of life was so interesting, and sometimes Dal got caught up in watching it. As she had the bird nest outside her den, watching the hatchlings grow into full-fledged adults that could fly and rid the nearby area of mice, saving her herbs from the little thieves. As the water swirls, leaves are cast along with no real destination; the reflection of red-tipped leaves made her glance upward.

Dal tipped her head back, dropping the hooded pelt to allow her spotted head to rid the shadow cast upon her eyes, now being able to fully set her sights upon the orange-tinted berry, growing out of the little leaves. Her eyebrows raise, curiosity evident, My, what are you little things? She questioned, as she nudged the stalks, branchless, the berries growing almost like the raspberry ones she'd collected in the Vale.