The mistress’s jaws opened, letting out a roaring sigh. Her maw closed once more with a barely audible click, the meeting of her teeth as they zipped back up between her gums. And this motion basically summed up how Sammy was feeling right now. She wasn’t happy to be back in the pack lands again, but she wasn’t exactly pining to leave the borders. Maybe her brief vacation around Blossom had been enough to quench her gnawing thirst to get out and see something more than the same old trees, same old bushes, same old wolves... then again, she hadn’t really seem many of them around in the first place. A while previous she had scented a new lady on the borders, and while she was tempted to greet the newcomer it seemed that Devil May Cry beat her to the prize. Her emerald orbs rolled in their sockets. Life was just so bland.

And, of course, it’s not like she had any friends to go hang out with. The solitary bounty hunter was not one for companionship. Mingling with others... now that was fun, but only because she got to cause a little mischief. Melancholy drained the color from her glistening pools, leaving her to lower her head to the terra once more and hope that something would happen to relieve her of this misery.

The rouge vixen’s pelt lay ruffled with dirt and braided with loam, a true testament to how long she had been residing in this one spot. The thought of exercise crossed her mind and, with a moan, she reluctantly pulled to herself to all fours. Yeah yeah, might as well take a quick little jog around the place. Not like she’d want to waste away waiting for the world to change. Or rather, bend to her will. The lush trees of Malignant sheltered her travels as she began at a slow place about the territory. Her pistons soon fell into their natural rhythm, the rocking of her gait bringing nostalgia to the huntress. Her very shoulders seemed to part the foliage as it sped towards her chest, daring to rip her to shreds. Still, she dodged and weaved, jumped and slid, making an obstacle course of the land. And, as she crossed the finish line, Samus found her claws precariously clinging to the edge of a rock, one face sloping into the forest while the other dropped a sheer 15 feet. A small gap, yes, but pleasant change in altitude seemed to calm the crimson she-wolf, literally giving her new perspective. She had endured much worse than a few moons of stifling boredom. Looking out about the world to plot its demise, Samus Aran curled up at the tip of the boulder and let a classic smile slip to her face.