Thick fog snaked through the snow-laden trees surrounding Chanim. In his jaws, the hind leg of a mule deer yearling. He had found the carcass earlier that morning, picked at by some smaller predators. By the looks of it, the yearling had been eliminated by the long, hard winter. This unfortunate end however, marked a good note for Chanim. The find provided not only a meal, but more importantly, a larger portion of flesh that he could carry. The young wolf continued forward, his jaws quivering slightly from the taste of deer blood in his mouth. It had been several hours, and the earlier snack wasn’t nearly enough to fill a hungry wolf, but the leg in his mouth wasn’t for him.

This was going to be Chanim’s best chance at finding a new pack, at least until after mating season. He had wandered many miles from his birth-pack; many hungry, painful miles. Although the idea of being submissive was hardly appealing, the promise of food, shelter, and pack-mates would always be more important. The lone wolf still understood that not every pack offered the same chance at that prosperity, but, this far from home, every pack would be the same: completely unknown.

Chanim slowed to a stop right as the trees began to thin out. The scent of the resident pack was strong here, marking the edge of their territory. He placed the deer haunch on the crunchy snow and let out a long howl. And now all there is to do is to wait.