She was a weary traveller. She had been roaming for days, not quite sure what she was looking for or where she was going.
Adrastea turned her honey-colored head, her golden gaze sweeping her surroundings carefully. Being alone was beginning to wear on her. She had always taken for granted the comfort of being in a pack. Now that she was alone and far from home, it seemed that every shadow was a potential threat and every snapping twig was an omen of danger ahead.
She needed to find someone, anyone, that she could trust.
The water rushed over her paws as she stood in the shallows at the top of one of the falls. Something about this place brought her comfort and courage, and eased the soreness of her wearied feet.
Andrastea could smell the scent of other wolves who had been in the area recently, and she was hoping someone kind might still be hanging around.
Of course, she couldn’t yet know who or what might find her here, open and vulnerable on her own.