The mist steamed off the moors when the cold air met the warmth of the water below. It was a state of being Iromar seemed so often possessed by. It created an eery nature to the packland, a mystery of never really knowing what was on the other side of the reeds. With the worry of where you might put your paw, it also created an aura of calm. Of dead silence muted by the moisture that clung to the very air. Until one heard the jarringly loud splashing and squelching of an almost grown pup diving at anything she found even remotely interesting.

Pine had woken up this morning to a chill that was cooler than others she had greeted with rapid barks and yaps and decided to dash from her den to explore her borders once again. Her noisey exit was exactly the reason she had decided to select a den fairly close to Big Wolf instead of continue to inhabit his. It was the least she could do after she woke him up for the fifth or sixth time in a week. After all, the old needed their rest.

Pleased as she could be, the small wolf jumped from puddle to puddle, occasionally being rewarded with the crunch of forming ice under the long grasses. Soon she was racing along trails, sniffing here and there for anything that would seem out of the ordinary. Occasionally she would create something out of the ordinary herself, just to chase a shadow or a dream.

She had so many dreams to chase. Thoughts and feelings that took her far and wide. There were tugs at that called her far, tugs at her mind that held her here, and a tug at her paws that was the mud trying to swallow her. She growled at it once and trotted along on her merry way, jumping every third step, bringing a new flair to ‘border patrol’.