Long speckled limbs knew not where they were headed as they traversed through foreign terrain that in a sense mirrored the woman's homeland, opting to exchange the hues of gold from the stalks of rye she remembered as a pup for that of soft pastels painted as far as the eye could see from wildflowers swaying their petals in the gentle breeze that blew about. Occasionally Sphinx would opt to take a small break here and there to dip her muzzle toward a grouping of flowers, treating her sense of smell with their delicate floral aroma.
It was during one such pause that Sphinx lifted her amber-hued gaze toward the sky above that offered its own painted masterpiece of colors, various shades of pinks and oranges clashing together in their common display signifying the setting of the sun and cloaking the world below in a rosy tint. This place was strikingly beautiful, almost beautiful enough to give the rye fields a run for their money. Alas, the day would soon be over though and with the onset of evening, the speckled woman knew it wouldn't be wise to be caught out in the open.
Thus the salt and peppered female trudged onward with some more umpf to her step, her paws following along a makeshift dirt trail that wove through the wildflowers, most likely the result of travelers that had come through these lands before her.