Partly Cloudy — Current Temperature: 34° F/1° C
Early Morning
Teketa wouldn't mind seeing more grass anyway. Grass meant more grass-eating mammals. Grass meant more prey. It meant the end of another winter. He'd survived four of them now - he had experienced a harsher one before this. But he would still be glad of the warmth spring promised. The black wolf was making his way down the gentle slope of Fireweed Rise. He had no idea what it was called of course, but he might've gathered some idea if he'd arrived in another season. As it was, this seemed a decent enough place to take a rest. He moved with an easy lilt, his steps even and confident as his paws carried him toward a lonely cedar tree. It was small - for a tree - but Teketa thought he might find some semblance of shelter under its boughs.
It had been a long time since Teketa could just sit and enjoy the sunrise. He had traveled through the night and though he could feel the exhaustion of his journey, the sight of another day was beautiful to him. As he reached the tree, he took a moment to sniff around - a habit that usually kept him out of trouble - and relieve himself. Then he dug away some of the slush around his paws and settled down with his back to the tree, his eyes to the uneven eastern horizon. The sun wouldn't be visible to him right away, but the clouds and the sky itself were already painted with more color than the prettiest painting, and he loved what he could see.
He loved when he was alone - when he knew no one was watching - when his stern façade could fade and the gentlewolf underneath could be revealed, however briefly. If any in the Lore had known him before, they would scarcely recognize Teketa now - any who spied him would see a face far kinder than they had ever seen on him before, albeit a weathered one. He didn't quite smile, but the sharp downward pull found commonly on his lips was absent, lending him a more content expression.