Sleep evaded her. Irritable and restless, the tundra wolf tossed and turned against the freshly fallen snow, kicking her legs to spray white powder over the nearby pine and dogwood trees. The freezing snow felt did little to soothe her prickly hot skin, even as pressed her body into it, sprawled out upon the ground like some helpless fledgling dove.
The female felt the urge to move, to roam, despite the incessant aching of her tired limbs. Picking herself up from the snow and shaking herself off, she stormed over towards the towering cliff face to frantically inspect the debris at its base. She needed a distraction, something to gnaw on, anything to prevent her plucking out her own fur or licking her paws red-raw.
Clambering over the large fallen boulders, she rummaged through the debris in search of the perfect pacifier. Nudging a large branch out of the way, she buried her nose deeper into a crevasse which appeared between two boulders. Dark nostrils flared as she caught the faint scent of decay, and after a dislodging a smaller rock, spotted the large curved end of a mountain sheep horn. Immediately she tried to retrieve it, desperately pushing her nose further until she could touch the treasure with her lips, but still it was out of reach.
Embla then tried a different tactic; attempting to move one of the boulders with her paws. Still she had no luck. She was simply not large enough or strong enough to retrieve the item buried beneath the mountain rubble. The already-frustrated female huffed loudly, causing a cloud of hot air to plume out in front of her as she glared down at the horn, disgruntled.