Rhys was an almost constant presence in Cecily's life, and while she adored her littermate and appreciated his support and love, she was glad to be able to have some alone time here and there. Like now, as she bumped her nose lightly against fallen trees that she was treating like a maze. It was quite fun, actually, even though her nose was raw and bleeding a little bit from where she had scraped it too many times.
A light little hum settled in the back of her throat as she clambered her graceless way up on top of one of the fallen pines, balancing precariously simply to prove that she could, in fact, do it. Her senses of smell and touch were working overtime to get her through these crazy trees, and therefore, her sense of hearing was essentially discarded in preference to those two.
This, of course, was one of those issues of only having only four senses instead of five. Perhaps wolves who could see had the selective senses, as well, but Cecily was finding it very difficult to decide which ones to put to use. Her tail curled over her spine in a little curl of concentration, and her thin legs were tense as she attempted to keep her balance.
She ended up flopping onto her stomach across the log, but at least she tried.