It was early morning as a wolf padded through the marsh. He wasn't even a yearling yet but it would be clear that he would be a large wolf. His frame was already bulky and he was coated in a thick fur pelt. His canvas was a golden shade, a spot of summer in the cold landscape. He bore dark brown points, his face, paws, ears, and tail dipped in a chocolate hue with mother nature taking a paintbrush and running down his back to create a dorsal stripe. Lighter flaxen hues enveloped the thick fur around his neck and countershaded his underbelly. He had warm golden eyes like the sun took home inside his skull. He wore feathers decorated in his tail.
The beast suddenly crouched, zeroed in on a noise. He moved quietly despite his size, each step taken carefully. It would become apparent there was high pitched chirps echoing from somewhere around the beast. He padded forwards, moving with a deft grace as he followed the cacophony to its source. It was a group of cardinals including a brightly red male and a handful of more drab females. At the base of the tree he waited, picking up fallen feathers and sitting down to stick them in his tail.
Apollo was out looking for his mother again. There was no question in his mind that his mother must be somewhere and that she simply had gotten lost when they had separated and he was set on finding her. He missed spring terribly, missing the flowers he loved and enjoyed and missed easy swims in the water.