I'm beginning to feel like a Dungeon Dragon

soul forever her own | heart captured by none | Hastati for Glorall | no children |

Winter was not exactly her favorite time either. Same complaint; no food and it was cold. Her fur was just thick enough to keep her relatively warm during the coldest months, at least stave off hypothermia. Most nights she was chilly in her den, though it was so small her body heat slowly accumulated and kept her from freezing to death. She could move to a different den, but she liked hers. It was just big enough for her to turn around in -albeit slowly and with some difficulty- so she wasn't taking a bigger, more comfortable den from someone who needed it more. After all, it just needed to fit her. She didn't have a mate or a pup or someone else to share it with, so why bother with more than she needed? It didn't make sense to her why one wold would take a den that would fit two or three for just themselves. Comfort probably played into it; but Jagger was not a normal wolf. She'd make her life harder than it had to be and complicated for the sake of others. She took the smallest den possible to fit her, and come the warmer months she probably won't use her den to keep it open for others who might might need it.

The food situation was a bit simpler. Being a nomad for the vast majority of her life, she had learned some tricks that worked for her. She already pretty much fasted, only taking enough to keep her strong. She generally took rabbits here and there and scavenged whatever serviceable carcasses she came across. She had participated in pack hunts before when one that was giving her shelter invited her. Even then though she filled only about half her stomach, politely declining offers to take more.

But it wasn't because she hated food, oh no, she loved it. It was just that a body used to less food did better in prey-poor winters; and if there was ever a shortage she could go longer without food giving her more time to find said food or just wait it out for as long as possible if she couldn't. See? It was a precautionary survival tactic. After all, her motto was "prepare for the worst, hope for the best." But don't hope too much, never too much. It might've sounded depressing, but she personally described herself as a "pessimistically optimistic realist." Prepare for the worst and hope for the best but keep it in the realm of it-could-actually-happen.

As it stood at the moment, she'd scavenged off a meager doe carcass. Most of it had been picked clean but she wasn't that picky. The cold had frozen it, fending off rot. And besides, she got a nice bone to sharpen her teeth with. She had brought the bone back to her den in Glorall, meaning to use it to teach Viora a few tricks of the trade. Sure, her victims would probably hate her for it, but warriors needed sharp teeth and needed to know how to sharpen them further. Even warriors in training like her charge.

She had followed the elk's scent, curious. Just because she didn't fill her stomach regularly didn't mean she wouldn't pass off the opportunity if it was presented to her. When she came upon fur and bone instead, she wasn't disappointed. She was actually kind of glad; there was another wolf. She approached slowly, knowing some wolves could be very territorial about food, giving the fellow female ample time to notice her. "Hello," She said simply, sitting back on her haunches. Her relaxed stance made it clear she wasn't here for food; only for conversation and perhaps friendship.

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