The sun burned feebly from it's noon-time peak low in the southern sky, casting long-shadowed light and little warmth over the wetlands. With each step of her creamy white paws the ground crackled beneath her, the frozen mud of the marsh creaking and groaning in protest beneath a layer of snow. Oula took care to walk around the marsh's perimeter, not daring to try her weight over the dubious layer of ice coating the water.
Dry, brittle cattails brushed her flanks as she crouched between them, stalking after the scent of moose. Her body was rigid like an arrow, stiff tail flagging straight out behind with sniffing nose extended to direct her ahead. Oula's breath curled white tendrils around her rounded face with each breath, the cold that nipped at her nose and toes easily ignored with the task at hand. Her mission today was simply reconnaissance, despite how cocky the Whitebark woman could be, she knew a moose was far too much for her to handle alone. But if she could scout out the cow's position, it would be a trivial matter to alert @Veho to it's whereabouts and rally the pack in a hunt.
As she followed the trail of her quarry eastward, further and further from the Hollow's bounds, the scent of other wolves became apparent. It wasn't unexpected to find that other wolves frequented the area, but it did put her on alert, her body tensing and pale green eyes keeping vigilant for more than just moose.