Still, Arty plodded on, the sounds of his massive paws muffled by long grasses. It was a peaceful morning, with only few birds chirping overhead as company. It was weird for him to be a loner after spending so many years as part of a pack, even weirder to be travelling through a place so well-travelled by other wolves, yet not being challenged or chased away. But then, this place was so large it seemed the packs could live relatively peacefully amongst one another. It was quite different to his homelands where brawls over borders broke out relatively frequently… Arty sighed and pushed those memories away. He could well be visited by ghosts that haunted these lands, he didn’t need to invite his own to the party.
The wind picked up and Arty lifted his scarred snout to meet it. Water. Fresh water. He paused a moment to consider his options before beginning to pick his way down the slope. There were certainly scent trails running along from pack wolves, but they weren’t anywhere near strong enough to indicate he was heading directly towards their borders. Water could mean fish, and while it wasn’t his favourite of foods he was a big guy that needed plenty of sustenance. Food was food.
Arty’s long legs made quick work of the descent, and as he went his bright yellows picked up more and more of his surroundings, before he realised he was moving out of the mist and into a fairly lush canyon filled with tall evergreens with a creek cutting through it. The sound of water gurgling over the rocks brought a slight smile to his lips, and his tail waved lazily behind him. It was a beautiful, peaceful place… at least, it was.
He paid not much more attention to who could be around and instead laughed joyfully, bounding the remaining distance and launching himself into the air, landing with a huge splash. The cold water pierced through his fur, and he rose spluttering and laughing. It was a good day to have a good day, and get out of that blasted mist.