She woke in the late morning, startled awake by what ended up being nothing at all. Presumably a dream forgotten on impact with reality, Mojave had righted herself at the foot of a heavy tree she couldn't have named easily. Groggy and seemingly unaware, for several long seconds she could not help but survey her surroundings as though she did not fully recall how she had ended up there, and in truth she didn't quite remember settling in there for the cold night that had passed. The day before had been pleasant and she had a good romp through what had ended up being a weak snowfall. Clots of the precipitation lingered in the shadows and clung to the sunless sides of trees as she rose and gave her coat a rough shake. It did little to chase away the cold that she felt set in her bones.
With a yawn and a lengthy stretch to follow the first of her movements, the yearling ventured off to weave through what were becoming more familiar trails. The old wood greeted her just as the sun broke through the tangled canopy and she squinted sourly, regretting the decision to break towards the southeastern flank of the treeline. Already to her it was as though the sun didn't quite make it high enough to clear some of the towering parts of the wood, but nevertheless she continued, dipping in and out of dappled beams of light. To her, the day was just beginning though no doubt for some of the occupants of Hearthwood, the day had been in full swing for some time.
And from what she could gather, there was plenty she could find to do, plenty of warmer bodies to find and mingle with. But first things first, she decided as she hovered near to a cache she recalled, a little bit of sustenance would do her good. She sussed out where the earth had been recently turned from someone's hunt and began to turn and sift through it herself, wondering if anything was truly within it. Even in spite of the snowmelt of winter, the ground was solid and her actions took effort; they were not quiet as she began to dig more steadily.