Diary log nr.1

Over the years Matilda had spent traveling and never staying at one place or with one group for very long, she had learned not to be very fastidious. She slept, where she fell from exhaustion, and ate, whatever she found satisfying enough for her stomach. Food was a treasured thing, therefore during her days, which she had spent at the dump, even packages, which smelled like meat were found good enough for eating. Therefore, when she woke up under a large tree one cold summer morning at a place, which was very far away from her usual routes of wandering, with her stiff leg hurting more than usual and her stomach rumbling so loudly as a thunder in mid-July, she didn't blame her tough life or the fate much. Things like that happened so often that she simply didn't care to notice anymore.

Matilda got up, stretched and "cracked" all of her bones, yawned and scratched a nasty itch on her nape. She had arrived very late here yesterday and since it had been pretty dark, hadn't had much opportunity to see, what this place looked like. It had smelt of food - otherwise she wouldn't have even cared to stop here. It was the first and the most important criteria for the she-wolf to even get somewhere - beauty was way down the list. But, speaking of that, the place was nice and the air was clean and fresh, nothing like the environment she had been used to. "This will do..." Matilda told to herself, entered the forest and began to look for small rodents or anything at all to to eat.