Shepherd did not like the soppy mud, especially not when it squelched between his toes like this. However, with all the nice white snow melting away, there was more and more mud by the day. It just couldn't be avoided and it did horrible things to his clean white paws. Every few minutes, he would look down and they would be a messy brown again. He would stop to bathe himself - mother always said cleanliness was godliness - but another five or so minutes of walking left his paws frustratingly dirty again and again and again.

It took so much longer to get to mother's resting place with his frequent stops. But he knew she did not like it when he got himself dirty, so such stops were necessary.

On his latest pause, pale citrus green eyes peeking up over a paw as he dutifully detailed it, and overwhelming joy washed over him when he recognized a very familiar wild rose bush growing out here in the wide open of the fields. It was his mother's bush, the one he had dug up and planted for her over her resting place, and it was doing quite well now that things were worming up. That was very much a relief as he had begun to worry sometime in the winter on whether or not the poor plant had died. It had turned gray and lost all its leaves and then was buried under so much snow that it had taken him several days to find it again. But now, here it was! Healthy and green and just about twice the size he recalled. He wished he could say the same for himself, but beneath his white and silver-blue coat was a bony, light frame which seemed hardly fed. Mother would not approve, but he was never as good at hunting as she was and it was difficult to do it on his own.

Paws back on the muddy grass, Shepherd gave a few joyous bounds toward the rose bush but slowed his pace to a lighter lope when he felt a few specks of mud splash up against his stomach. Oh, it was just so hard to keep decent this early in the spring!

The young wolf slowed down as he approached the thorny green bush, wriggling happily as he crouched in a humble posture and greeted the plant with happy cries. Shepherd sniffed at the delicate new growth gently, not really caring to be pricked by a stray thorn, and inspected the little pink buds dotting here and there. It really was doing well, a genuine relief. Mother would be happy to have flowers around once they bloomed!

Shepherd lowered himself down next to the rose bush, pale green eyes lingering on the plant adoringly for a moment before rolling to his back. He hated to think of the mess he might be when he got up later, but, for now, he was content to nap here in the sun with Mother and her baby roses. Even as he began to drift, his white plume waved back and forth across the wet grass.