October 19th; Afternoon; Light rain; 46° F/8° C

An ideal afternoon for the five-month-old cub that was Sköll Archer consisted of mud, rain, and a sky full of clouds. For most of the summer the sun beat down on him with a warmth that easily sapped his energy; and, as the seasons had begun to change and the rain had started to come down in never-ending sheets, the young prince found that he had a preference for cooler weather. Though, a part of him did suspect that his affinity for the cold and damp had sprung up from discovering the delight that came from playing in the mud the first time he wandered outside of the den by himself.

Choosing to keep moderately close to Angier and Elettra's markers, the gangly boy made his own path through the willows, his paws stamping about in the drenched grass and sending droplets of rain and silt into the air. If the boy had not been using his eyes, he could have sworn that he was treading along a nearby shoal; though, as much as he knew, the only body of water he was aware of was Heartleaf Creek - which he and his siblings had been instructed numerous times to stay away from. Sköll smirked to himself. He never knew why the adults stressed themselves so much over him and his whereabouts... At least he generally kept well away from the creek, and that alone should have made them grateful for the level of vigilance he generally kept when adventuring on his own.

Today, the Archer was on yet another mission: instead of snuffling about for something to play with, he was searching for something to bring back to his mother. Something that would make her proud to have a son like him.

His leathery black nose lowered into the grass but with a shake of his head and neck, he had to let out a snort to rid his facial features of the water that had intruded his ears and nostrils. Righting his skull he wandered along through the yellowing grasses that, after several miles, rolled into the vast expanse of land that was Hush Meadow. It was quiet here aside from the gentle swaying of the trees and the rhythm of rainfall, and the boy also discovered that he was... comfortable with it all. His ghost gray eyes swept across the panorama that laid before him, his nostrils flared and the chill in the air invigorated him to push onward. Angier had recently educated him about the uses of hellebore and if he was to make himself useful to his mother and the pack, he should think about gathering a few sprigs of it. One good glimpse of a wilted specimen had been enough to motivate him.

Starting to search around once more, his tail went up in the air as his head went down, sweeping across the blades of grass while trying to pick out the scent of what could be a withering hellebore stalk.