Amber went along at her press paw pace, weaving between the rocks and small ponds. Her paws were worn, but not dry or cracking, thankfully. The she-wolf’s snowy white coat was thick, though as a breeze cam past, a few hair drifted away like silver in the wind. Forest green eyes ignored the shedding and instead looked about, searching fir movement. Movement might mean animals, and that might mean prey. For not the first time, and surely not the last, Amber was hungry. Her travels seemed to take her all over the place, but it seemed getting food never seemed to get any easier.

The sun was not favoring her either, which force the snow white animal to stop many times to get a drink from the water nearby. At least there was easy water to reach, where as in other places it was harder to find than food itself. One of these days, she decided she would simply relax by the river, drink some water, and eat easy to catch mice. Just one day to not move. Never more than a day of not moving. Amber could never stay still that long. It was an impossible task for the female. She would never be a pack wolf.