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Sunny days were unusual to the red female. It seemed like every day since her arrival in this new area had been cloaked with a light mist, an utter downpour, or everything in between. A part of her missed the moisture in the air; it had made her tracking immensely successful and likewise her hunting. Alternatively, it had made her fur look, quite honestly, like shit. Yet here she was, traveling through the vivid green terrain, shafts of early morning sunlight piercing through the canopy, their warmth penetrating her fur.

Life alone had made her appear haggard, the rippling of her ribs clearly evident beneath her wiry russet fur. Good companions had made her time alone worth it, but alas they had one after the other parted ways, and she was yet again alone.

The smell of a pack nearby, as well as game had lured her away from her den in the heart of Riddle Heights to the thick terrain of Sacred Grove. Stalwart trees and heavy vines made the she-wolf feel miniscule in their company, and though she admired the area, she remained out of her element amongst the growth. Mountains were what she yearned for, an expanse similar to where she had been raised.

Maybe this wasn’t the place for her. Jackal stopped abruptly at this uncomforting thought. Maybe she was meant to be alone, to survive despite all the odds, to suffer. She winced as if she had been physically struck. Maybe her search for a place to call home would always end with disappointment.

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