It was not the absolute ideal to be there and yet, she was inclined to find the best in even this; the fields were vast and new, their scents and sights a glory to behold. The snow piled onto them in such a unique way, filling the space between hills and blanketing the plains in pure, unadulterated white. Of course, she cannot help but feel lonely and wrong at times as she sees the crest of the mountain rise to the south west, its white peak high and mighty against the grey sky and yet, she is curious of this place and its inhabitants. Why was she taken here? It is a mystery she cannot seem to solve and yet, she is fast learning that perhaps there was no particular reason to it at all. Instead, she does her best to merely embrace the situation, quelling the thoughts of her mother and father with endless exploration and adventure.
She is quick to learn all she can about the territory; it borders Taviora and so, she knows she can fast return home if she desires to do so. Still, she finds herself captivated by the unusual wolves she sees. She sees their instincts and their actions in a new, crisp way - they are unlike the wolves of home, it seems. Her young mind cannot entirely discern why that is or what it means but she knows now that it does not matter. They are, after all, all the same at their cores; they have families and their own lives, their own concerns. They each hunt and eat, sleep and play. Whatever differences they display seem superficial to her now and she finds herself grinning even when she feels a stab of worry or uncertainty at their behavior. Her father's curiosity, it seems, is a difficult thing to displace, even with her mother's gentle blood.
Today, however, she is hard pressed to find another wolf to watch and so, she ventures far into the mainland of the pack's territory. Here, the plains open up into a flat, vast expanse; once, it was full of flowers and yet, now it is a long, flat ocean of white. She dashes through the snow with little hesitation, plowing her way through and leaving an obvious trail behind her; it is purposeful, this action, so that others might grow curious and seek her out too. For the time being, she is content to play in the winter sun, an oddity in itself between the days of snow and bleak, grey skies.
With all the childish excitement within her, she continues on without real purpose; she dashes and darts, crossing over her own trail at times before plunging into the knee deep snow once more. Eventually, she pauses to catch her breath, her head tilted back as she balances a clump of snow on her nose. She watches as it slowly begins to melt, tickling her nostrils and making her sneeze and yet, she is undeterred. From so close, she can see the way the snowflakes are individuals and yet, part of the whole. It is an interest thing - to her, at least.