In my younger days, I had been an adventurous girl. Always I had pushed the boundaries my father had set for me, going further east, further south, until finally I had seen everything Moladion had to offer me. Perhaps now, as a she-wolf grown, my sense of adventure had changed by some degree. There was not much mystery to the land itself anymore. More the mystery lies in the wolves that populated it. I took pride in knowing each wolf of my pack by scent and face and name. But there were many wolves beyond my borders that I had yet to meet. True enough there were faces friendly to me in Diveen and Glorall and Taviora. But what of the freelands? Despite my having lived a year of my life in the valley, I did not truly feel I could call any packless wolf my friend.

As I loped through the woodlands, I remembered a day long ago when I had taken a similar course at a similar pace. I could not help the smile that spread across my maw as I slowed to a jog, thinking of my oh so graceful tumble, and my chance meeting with Dimas. He had been a lone wolf that I had called a friend, but that was a long time ago. I had not seen or smelt him in as many years.

These days I was a bit more mindful of where I put my paws, and I easily avoided fallen branches. In my wake I left a pristine set of paw prints, my gait graceful and poised. Though I carried myself in a neutral state while moving through the forest, the mannerisms of a Queen could not be so easily shed. Alpha blood ran thick through my veins, and despite my dormant tail and smoothed hackles, my head was still somewhat aloft as I jogged through the woods. Ears pricked forward, occasionally swiveling to listen to the sounds the forest produced. Suddenly my eyes flashed to my right, and I stopped, a flash of movement catching my attention. My nostrils flared, hoping to catch some scent to give away the source of the motion. Mahogany pools narrowed, searching the trees, unsure if it was wolf or prey. Or something else entirely.